Losing Their Bearings
by Kathy Rose
Summary: Enterprise is mired in an isolated area of space, and Hoshi is Malcolm's only anchor to sanity. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

Title: Losing Their Bearings

Author: Kathy Rose

Rating: PG-13

Category: Drama/suspense

Warning: Not an AU. It's more a "what-if" scenario.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to someone else, etc., etc., etc. I'm not making any money, I'm just having fun with the characters. Wish I'd thought of them first.

Summary: Enterprise is trapped in a strange area of space that is causing the crew to go mad, and Hoshi is Malcolm's only anchor to sanity

Beta: Thanks to PJ for betaing as well as for some ideas when I got stumped.

CHAPTER 1

The illumination in the corridor was more feeble than the last time Hoshi had been here. She gulped nervously and kept close to Malcolm as they moved along cautiously. The only sounds were the shuffling of their feet on the dusty deckplating and her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

They arrived at the cargo bay door. Malcolm looked in both directions before holstering his phase pistol.

"Keep an eye out," he said softly as he entered the access code at the jury-rigged panel.

Hoshi nodded, wiping a sweaty hand on her threadbare uniform before gripping her own pistol more tightly. The last time they had come here, they'd been attacked as they'd opened this same door. She shifted her gaze from left to right and back again, trying not to leave either end of the corridor unwatched for more than a few seconds.

She heard the hiss as the lock disengaged, and Malcolm grunting as he put his weight against the door to force it open. The hydraulics that moved the bigger doors like this one had long ago quit working.

Malcolm slipped inside. Hoshi maintained her lookout, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. She could hear Malcolm moving around in the cargo bay. The lighting in there must be bad, too, she realized as she heard him swear. From the sounds of it, he must have bumped into something.

A small smile curved her lips. A few years ago she never would have expected to hear him utter a profanity worse than his trademark "Bloody hell!" At least not within the range of her hearing.

Trip had recently observed that, the more Malcolm cursed, the worse things were getting. Hoshi had found Malcolm's profane verbalizations to be an accurate barometer of the state of things.

Her smile faded. Malcolm had been cursing more than usual lately.

Within minutes, he had returned and was closing the cargo bay door.

"Did you get anything?" she whispered anxiously. Looking down at the bag by his feet, she was disappointed to see that it didn't appear to have much in it.

"A little," he replied breathlessly as he did something to the door. "There. It's locked. Let's go."

They hustled to the ladder leading up to the next deck. Malcolm stepped to one side, looking in the direction from which they'd just come. He held the bag over his shoulder, pistol in his hand, as Hoshi grabbed the rails and put her foot on the first rung.

She glanced up as she began to climb. That action saved her from getting kicked in the face.

"Malcolm!" she cried out, ducking as a booted foot swung by her head with so much force that she could hear the swish of displaced air.

The flash of a blast from Malcolm's phase pistol seared over her head and she heard a grunt as it hit its target. She squeezed up against the ladder, but even so, was struck on the shoulder by the falling body. Gasping at the impact, she kept her gaze riveted upward, peering into the darkness.

She didn't see anyone else. Either their attacker was alone, or any would-be accomplices had decided not to mess with them. Most of the lower-deck inhabitants didn't have any weapons other than clubs, and phase pistols were a strong deterrent. Unfortunately, the lure of obtaining a phase pistol sometimes outweighed its effectiveness.

"He's OK," Malcolm said from where he was squatting to check their assailant's pulse.

Hoshi's nose wrinkled at the smell coming from the unkempt, bearded man. Her clothes might be shabby, but at least she kept them -- and herself -- clean.

"Come on!" she urged, the need to get moving gnawing at her, outweighing any compassion she might have felt for a former crewmate.

Malcolm stood up, grabbed the sack, and followed her up the ladder. "Rostov," he said quietly.

"I couldn't tell," she said truthfully.

She deliberately kept from looking too closely at any of the people they ran into on these forays. She'd rather not know who they were. It was easier that way.

Reaching the top of the ladder at the next deck, she stepped off and to the side, keeping a wary eye out for anyone who might be lurking around. Malcolm clambered up quickly and joined her in looking up and down the corridor.

He motioned her toward their next destination. She took a few steps toward what used to be the armory before she heard his soft footfalls following her. Something about how he was walking sounded wrong. Taking a quick glance behind, she saw that he was walking backwards, staring into the darkness at the other end of the corridor.

"Skip the armory!" he whispered loudly over his shoulder to her. "Head for the next ladder!"

She'd been to the lower decks enough times not to question Malcolm when he made a change in plans. The angry scar marring his temple was a strong reminder of what could happen if they couldn't deviate from their plans when the need arose.

As she altered course for the corridor that contained the ladder, she whispered, "I didn't hear anything."

"Me, neither," he said as he hurried her along. "But I saw some shadows that shouldn't have been there. There's more than one this time."

They moved quickly down the corridor. Halfway along, Malcolm suddenly gave her a shove that propelled her into running. Seeing the ladder ahead, she knew safety was only moments away, and she put on a burst of speed.

She leaped onto the ladder, not bothering to holster her pistol. Scrambling as fast as she could, she made it to the top, Malcolm bumping into her legs in his haste.

"Move it, Hoshi!" he cried. "They're right behind us!"

Her hands fumbled with the mechanism on the latch at the top of this ladder, and she almost screamed in frustration and fear as she tried to tap in the recognition code. At last the lock on the other side disengaged and the hatch popped upward.

She blinked in the glare of light from the opening. Several anxious faces peered down at her, and a hand reached out for her.

With a strangled cry of relief, she grasped the offered hand and was yanked up and out of the way. Malcolm scurried up behind her and slammed the hatch shut, dogging it down just as it reverberated with the sound of metal hitting metal from the other side.

Hoshi gave Malcolm a weak smile. They'd made it out just in time.

Trip and T'Pol, both dressed in uniforms in the same sorry, worn-out state as hers and Malcolm's, were inspecting the contents of the sack. "Didn't get much, did ya?" Trip remarked, pulling out several strips of thin metal.

"I'd like to see you do better," Malcolm said angrily.

"I'm not criticizin', just statin' a fact," Trip said.

Hoshi wished Trip would keep quiet. No matter what he said, or how he said it, Malcolm seemed to take offense. It wasn't Trip's fault; it's just the way things were nowadays. Had been for some time.

Hoshi closed her eyes as she leaned against the bulkhead trying to calm down. She and Malcolm had the best record of scavenging of all the able-bodied crew. That's why they were so often the ones picked to go down into the bowels of the ship. She didn't like it, but that's the way things were.

She pushed herself away from the bulkhead as she resigned herself to something she couldn't change.

"Come on," she said to Malcolm as she gave T'Pol her pistol. "Let's go back to our quarters. I'm beat."

Malcolm tore his resentful glare away from Trip and gave her a nod. Handing over his pistol to one of the crew stationed at the hatch, he followed Hoshi down the corridor toward yet another ladder to begin the climb to the living area.

(Author's Note: Explanations are coming in the next chapter.)


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

It had taken some time for Hoshi to get Malcolm calmed down after his perceived insult from Trip. He'd finally fallen asleep on their bunk, but not before she'd had to soothe him in the only way that seemed to work every time.

She loved him, but she really wished she didn't have to use sex to calm him. Sometimes, when he was in one of his moods, he could be a little rough, and she didn't really care for that. He'd never actually hurt her, and she knew he would never intentionally do so, but there were times when she could tell that he wasn't totally aware of what he was doing.

She slipped out of bed and made her way to the bathroom. Flipping on the light after she closed the door, she stared at her reflection in the cracked mirror over the sink. Maybe they'd have to start rationing power more stringently like Trip kept warning them might happen, and then she wouldn't be able to come in here and stare at herself in the middle of the night after getting Malcolm settled.

It would be about the only good thing associated with power rationing, she thought with a rare flicker of amusement as she looked at the gray flecks in her hair. At least there didn't seem to be any new gray hairs after their most recent escapade.

Not that she was vain enough to care. At one time she would have been, but she was past that. Trying to survive could do that to you.

She ran some water, splashing it over her face and neck. Glancing back up in the mirror, she caught sight of the wrinkles around her eyes. Laugh lines, Malcolm called them, but he was being charitable. She knew they were worry lines. She'd gotten quite a few of them the last two years.

She leaned down again, resting her forehead on her hands on the edge of the sink, but not before she turned the water off. Wouldn't do to waste any. After air, water was the most precious commodity aboard.

Once again she felt despair pushing at her resolve, but she refused to give in. Malcolm needed her. If she slipped over the edge and joined those on the lower decks, literally as well as figuratively, she might take him along. She couldn't bear the thought of being responsible for his descent into madness.

They'd never figured out why some of the crew were affected and others weren't, or why some seemed to teeter on the brink, like Malcolm.

There was no rational explanation, so Hoshi had decided that this area of space was evil. It was as good a reason as any.

She couldn't help but wonder, though, if frustration was in part affecting Malcolm's mental health. He had always taken his duties protecting them so seriously. Now, if things kept going as they had been, chances were they all would die, and he wouldn't be able to do a thing about it. Eventually they'd run out of supplies -- if they didn't kill each other first.

Sighing, she reached for a towel to dry her face, and a phrase from a children's rhyme ran through her head: _If wishes were horses..._

She almost laughed. She had so many wishes. Topping the list was getting out of this predicament, but she didn't see how that was possible. Enterprise was stuck like a fly in a spider's web, hung up in space that seemed, for lack of a better description, thick. Trip and T'Pol had been trying for two years to figure out how to break free from it, but hadn't had any luck so far.

Another wish was that they'd never contacted that freighter two years ago. Just a friendly, neighborly chat, Captain Archer had said when he'd ordered her to hail the other ship. They'd never determined what it was that had set them off, causing them to fire on Enterprise.

And she wished those three warships had never showed up, either, and hadn't chased Enterprise for days. They'd barely been able to keep ahead of them. The captain and Malcolm had figured out Enterprise was being herded in a certain direction, but before they could decide what to do, they'd been driven into this morass of space. They been stuck ever since.

The warp drive didn't work here, and neither did the impulse engine. Sure, they powered up, but the ship wouldn't move.

She was reminded of the old-time sailing ships that used to be becalmed in the Sargasso Sea, an area of unnatural calm in the mid-Atlantic between the Azores and the West Indies. With no wind to fill their sails, ships were helpless. Some eventually managed to make it across, but others were lost. A few were found abandoned, no trace of their crews.

Here in this Sargasso Sea of space, not only was Enterprise becalmed, but the sensors didn't work most of the time either. Not that there was anything to see outside. There were few stars in the area, and no other phenomena like nebulas nearby.

They'd tried everything they could think of to boost their communication signals, but nothing got through. One time, they even tried an EVA on the hull to modify the transmission equipment. The two crewmen who went outside were the first to go crazy.

She hung up the towel and turned out the light, and made her way back to bed. She didn't have to worry about waking Malcolm as she slid in beside him and pulled the blanket up over them both. He always slept soundly after they'd had sex when he was upset like he had been today. The intimate nature of the act was like a counterbalance to whatever had stirred him into a frenzy.

He needed her, and she'd never begrudge herself to him. He'd saved her life -- all their lives -- more times than she could count. And she did love him. So what if sometimes he didn't realize it was her sharing his bunk? It was a small price to pay to keep him sane and with her.

There were times when she was tired and selfish, and then she would pretend they were the only ones on the entire ship. It was a pleasant fantasy, but it never lasted long enough. Something would always intrude.

As if on cue, there was a soft knock at the door. Malcolm continued to sleep, so Hoshi scooted out from under the blanket. She grabbed her robe and put it on, and hurried to the door.

"Who is it?" she asked quietly, her hand on the latch.

"It's Trip."

Hoshi closed her eyes momentarily, seeking strength. She'd just gotten Malcolm calmed down. If he woke to find Trip here, there would be hell to pay.

Opening the door, she stepped out into the corridor. "What do you want, Trip?" she asked.

"Um...just checkin' on him. How's he doin'?"

"Like usual," she replied with a touch of aggravation, crossing her arms over her chest. "What do you really want?"

Trip had the grace to look sheepish, and he dropped his gaze from her face. "I was just wonderin'..." After a long pause, he lifted his gaze back up and stared at her, his eyes filled with a relentless longing. "Have ya changed your mind?"

"No, and I never will."

"Hoshi, he's half crazy--"

"He's your friend, Trip," she said heatedly. "I can't believe you're asking me to cheat on him!"

"Hoshi, please. I--"

"Hoshi?" came Malcolm's groggy voice from inside the cabin.

"I have to go," she whispered to Trip as she stepped back inside. "Please don't ask me again."

"Hoshi?" Malcolm said again as she shut the door. "Who was that?"

"T'Pol...checking on us." Hoshi added to the fabrication as she took off her robe and slipped back into bed. "She was worried something might be wrong since we didn't stop by the mess hall."

Malcolm reached for her as she settled in next to him. "You'd think she'd know that eating is the last thing on our minds after we get back from one of our missions," he said, nuzzling her neck playfully.

She could tell by the tone of his voice that he was aware of where he was and who he was with. With eagerness, she turned to him as he took her in his arms.

"You keep this up, and I'll be hungry," she said. "Then you'll have to scrounge something for me to eat."

"You know the rules," he murmured as he moved to cover her body with his. "You miss a meal, you wait until the next one."

She laughed softly. "Then you better keep me busy until breakfast."

"I'll see what I can do," he said.

He kissed her tenderly, and she reveled in the sensation. The moments like this made everything bearable -- living aboard a derelict spaceship, eking out survival day to day, even seeing her friends succumb to a mind-altering dementia and worrying if she would be next.

But she also knew that if anything ever happened to Malcolm, if anything ever took him away from her, she wouldn't last long enough to make it to the lower decks. Her life would be over.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

T'Pol led the staff meeting of senior officers in the captain's mess. She always kept to the business at hand, and she never let any disagreements escalate.

That was becoming more and more difficult to do, she reflected, as Malcolm's borderline mental stability appeared to be further undermined lately whenever he was around Trip.

As long as Hoshi could keep Malcolm in check, the situation with the senior staff should remain stable. T'Pol did not wish to lose Malcolm. He and Hoshi had an ability -- a knack, Hoshi called it -- of being able to go into dangerous areas of the ship and return with needed items. That was getting harder and harder to accomplish as time passed and their supplies dwindled.

But neither did T'Pol wish any harm to come to Trip, which was what would surely happen if Malcolm was not restrained.

Of all the people on board, Trip had the knowledge and expertise that might eventually enable them to escape. The engineer had spent the last two years studying and experimenting, trying to find a way to modify the engines to operate in this area of space. Everything he had tried so far had failed.

He was currently in the middle of another project that might set them free. The trilithium strips Hoshi and Malcolm had scavenged the day before were for that project.

As Trip reported on what he would do with the strips, T'Pol glanced covertly at Hoshi. T'Pol knew Trip had visited her last night. From his downcast demeanor, she also gathered that Hoshi had denied him again.

She quickly squashed the un-Vulcanlike feeling of satisfaction at that thought. Just as Hoshi shared Malcolm's bed, T'Pol shared Trip's. She provided Trip with physical release, but was unable to give him anything beyond that. He, however, wanted a more emotional involvement. Hence his frequent visits to Hoshi's door.

As long as Hoshi didn't take Trip up on his request, the status quo could be maintained. If Trip somehow convinced Hoshi to acquiesce to his desires, however, things would change. T'Pol hurriedly tamped down the feather-soft touch of hysteria she felt trying to worm its way into her rationality when she contemplated such a possibility.

One thing T'Pol had come to understand about the madness -- it tapped into a person's weaknesses, picking the one that could derange a person the most.

So she allowed Trip into her bed almost every evening, knowing that not to do so would be her downfall, no matter how much she would like to deny it. She wanted him despite being unable to respond to him. To lose him to another would cause her own sanity to come apart, and no logic would be able to save her.

T'Pol shifted her gaze to Malcolm. His weakness was easy for her to see, now that the madness was apparent in him. He had long believed himself to be overshadowed by Trip. The difference in the two men's ranks was the most obvious reason, with Malcolm required to follow Trip's orders.

No doubt Trip's easy-going manner grated on Malcolm. Of all the humans she'd met, Malcolm was the most like her in manner and disposition, and she knew there were times when Trip's casual attitude irritated Malcolm.

Unlike Trip, Malcolm was reserved and controlled, not given to overt displays of emotion. At least he hadn't been until they'd become trapped here.

If T'Pol believed in luck, she would think it was lucky that the antidote to Malcolm's madness seemed to be Hoshi. Perhaps the knowledge that Hoshi had chosen him over Trip had kept Malcolm from sliding over the edge to total madness. Hoshi was the one area where Malcolm had bested Trip, and that salve to his ego was helping him to keep a grip on his sanity.

Bringing her full attention back to the meeting, T'Pol saw Hoshi and Malcolm trade a knowing glance as Trip made a request for another foray for materials.

Malcolm cleared his throat. "Hoshi and I can do it," he said with confidence.

T'Pol could see that Trip was torn. He needed the supplies, but he didn't want to put his friends at risk. Still, someone had to go after the items, and Hoshi and Malcolm were the best suited for the task.

Malcolm, whose paranoid tendencies were becoming more and more pronounced, was the best qualified from a tactical viewpoint. Hoshi, with her almost supernatural hearing, served as a biological scanner, able to detect even the minutest sounds from would-be attackers below decks. In addition, Malcolm's desire to keep Hoshi safe would help prevent him from doing anything rash.

Everything considered, T'Pol thought, Hoshi and Malcolm were the perfect team, keeping each other balanced.

"What do you want?" Hoshi asked Trip.

T'Pol watched as Trip's face turned an interesting shade of red at Hoshi's unintended innuendo. Oh, yes, Hoshi had definitely turned him down last night.

"Solder," Trip said.

"Solder?" Malcolm repeated incredulously. "You're asking us to risk our lives for solder?"

"Malcolm," Hoshi said quietly, putting a hand on his arm.

"It's got to be pure," Trip said defensively. "What we've got left in engineering is contaminated."

Hoshi gave Malcolm's arm a squeeze, and he placed his hand over hers.

"Is there anything else we could pick up while we're at it?" Hoshi asked.

"Yes," T'Pol put in. "Ensign Mayweather said there are some ration packs in the emergency locker on the same deck. They would go a long way toward stretching our food supplies. The hydroponic garden is still recovering from the fungal infestation and has not reached its maximum output."

"I'm afraid to find out what he's gonna whip up with ration packs this time," Trip said with a ghost of a smile. "Travis' daddy sure didn't pass on the cookin' gene to him."

As the meeting broke up, Hoshi asked, "Where's Travis today?"

T'Pol paused before replying. "He is in sickbay."

Trip, Malcolm and Hoshi all looked at her in concern.

"Is something wrong with him?" Malcolm asked.

"No," T'Pol said. "But I believe Crewman Cutler has finally convinced him that, without therapy, his leg will never get any better. They are beginning exercises to strengthen his muscles."

T'Pol maintained her stoic expression as the other three reacted happily to this news. Travis, their eternal optimist, had become severely depressed after his leg was hurt during an excursion to the lower decks for supplies. It hadn't helped that it was one of their former crewmates, albeit one of the crazy ones, who'd rammed a sharpened steel rod through his calf.

Travis had been one of the last ones to accept that they were trapped. It had taken being hurt to finally convince him. When reality had sunk in, he hadn't liked it very well, and he'd become surly and distant.

Even now, however, Travis wanted to believe that nothing was wrong with the captain.

T'Pol had had a hard time accepting it herself. Jonathan Archer had the most strength of will of any human she had ever met. He was the last person she'd thought would fall prey to the madness.

So when it did happen, it had surprised her. One day, Jonathan was fine; the next, he had ordered all the animals in sickbay to be killed and used for food. When his order had been refused, he'd stormed to sickbay. She and Trip had followed, not sure what the captain would do.

When Jonathan had tried to implement his own order, Doctor Phlox had intervened. The captain had severely injured the Denobulan before the shocked onlookers could react.

T'Pol wouldn't admit it, but what happened next was an emotionally painful episode for her.

They'd developed a method of dealing with crewmembers who had become deranged. As the number of crewmen becoming mentally unstable grew, they'd cordoned off sections of the ship, welding bulkhead doors shut. Only a few hatches could be opened to allow access. It was an efficient way to separate the sane from the insane, each having their own parts of the ship.

When a crewmember went mad, he or she would be taken into the section of the ship reserved for those who no longer had full use of their mental faculties. They had the run of the decks below engineering, but nothing above that.

T'Pol remembered the look on Jonathan's face, the slightest remnant of sanity apparent in his eyes when he realized where he was being taken. He'd turned and rushed them then, and Malcolm had had to stun him. They'd carried the unconscious captain the rest of the way, laid him gently on the deck, and left, locking the hatch behind them.

They didn't have the resources to take care of all those afflicted with the madness. As it was, they had to have two people at each of the access hatches to stand guard not only against those banished to other side but against each other as well, in case the madness struck one of them.

At first they had used the transporter to beam food to the others, but it was an incredible power drain, and inefficient. On one of their trips to the lower decks, Hoshi and Malcolm had seen food that had materialized partially inside a bulkhead.

So now food was sent to the lower decks by means of an improvised dumb waiter. It had taken three days, with guards watching out as Trip and his crew did the work, to build the shaft.

T'Pol doubted all the residents of the lower decks were getting their fair shares of the food. The only alternative was to send able-bodied crew down to distribute the food, but she considered that a waste of manpower. There was also the possibility of those crewmembers being harmed by the unpredictable lower-deck inhabitants.

At last count, a third of the crew was afflicted. While there were no recent cases, there were a few like Malcolm who, for whatever reason, maintained a tenuous grasp on their sanity.

T'Pol didn't want to contemplate what would happen if the ill crewmembers had unrestricted access to the entire ship. Whatever infinitesimal chance they had of getting out of this area of space would be negated. There would be no order, only chaos, and the rest of them most likely would succumb to the madness.

Death did not scare T'Pol. As she would point out to Trip on occasion, Vulcans were not capable of being frightened, and death was a natural progression from life, not something to be feared. But when it came to the loss of logic, any Vulcan would be acutely concerned.

When she thought about the possibility of losing her rationality, T'Pol could feel the madness nibble at the edges of her awareness, allowing her a faint understanding of what it would be like to experience terror.

So she would continue to lead what was left of the crew, trying to find some way to break free from whatever it was that was holding the ship in place. That was the immediate goal.

If they did break free and were able to leave this area of space behind, perhaps whatever it was affecting the crew would be left behind as well.

As humans would say, one could only hope.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I want to thank JadziaKathryn for catching a boo-boo in Ch. 3. She pointed out something that appeared to be a very messed up sentence, when actually it was a couple of paragraphs that were missing. I've corrected it so that it makes sense now. Thanks, JK!

CHAPTER 4

Very few people came to the bridge any more. There was no need to, as most of the operational functions for the ship were now handled through engineering.

The bridge was pretty much a dead hulk, Hoshi thought as she sat down at her console. Communications was the one thing that hadn't been totally switched to engineering.

She came to the bridge once a day to check the automatic distress beacon. Not once had it wavered in its programmed purpose, and not once had there been a reply. The weird space they were trapped in prevented the signal from traveling very far. But there was always a possibility, a freak chance, that the signal might get out.

Each time she came to the bridge, Hoshi also attempted to send a regular, wide-band hail on all frequencies. She'd learned the first time she'd tried it not to have the monitor in her ear, as the resultant feedback caused a horrendous squeal.

Over time, she'd become rather lackadaisical about sending the hail. She'd go to the bridge, check the distress signal, send the hail, and that would be that.

Until one time six months ago. She was running through all the frequencies when the feedback suddenly stopped. The transmission had found a clear channel. But almost as abruptly as the feedback had stopped, it started again, leaving Hoshi to wonder if she had imagined the whole thing.

With T'Pol's help, she had been able to ascertain that, indeed, the hail had gotten out. Whether someone had heard the hail was unknown. For all they knew, anyone who may have heard it and tried to come to their aid was stuck just as surely as they were.

Still, it gave the crew a tidbit of hope to cling to. They had managed to get a signal out. Maybe it would happen again.

That was six months ago, and it hadn't happened again. Hoshi was finding it hard to dredge up any enthusiasm for continuing the hails. Today's visit was turning out to be no different than any other visit to the bridge recently. She expected that she would check the distress beacon, send the hail, and leave.

But there was something different today, she realized with a start of guilty pleasure. For once, Malcolm hadn't accompanied her to the bridge. When he'd first starting doing it, she had been reassured by his presence. Then, when she realized how much jealousy of Trip played in Malcolm's desire to be with her constantly, she'd become annoyed.

Malcolm wasn't with her today because he and Travis were trying to figure out a way to increase the life of the power cells for the phase pistols. They were down to eleven of them, and those didn't always take well to being recharged any more.

So she felt relieved to be by herself, if only for a short time. Later she and Malcolm would make another foray to find the materials Trip wanted. But for now, she was on her own and she was going to enjoy it.

The bridge had to be one of the safest places on the ship. It was the farthest away from the lower decks. Anyone who could pose a danger, provided they managed to get into the secure sections, would have to come up several decks to get to the bridge.

Her work finished, she meandered around aimlessly. Memories cropped up as she gazed at the various stations -- Travis, a grin on his face as he put Enterprise through its paces; the captain, standing by his chair as he made the recording for some schoolchildren back on Earth; Malcolm, smirking as he input commands into the tactical console.

Her gaze slid past T'Pol's science station and came to rest on the door to the captain's ready room. Hoshi hadn't been in there in ages. No one had. There was no reason to.

She'd been as shocked as the rest of them when Jonathan had gone crazy, ordering all of Phlox's creatures to be killed. She'd never told anyone, but she believed that when Porthos had died, something in Jonathan had snapped. He'd loved that little dog so much that the grief he'd felt was too much for him to handle.

They had never figured out why Porthos had died, other than he seemed to succumb to the same madness affecting the humans. For canines, however, it was fatal, and that had struck her as being terribly unfair to both the dog and the man who cared so deeply for him.

It was only three days after Porthos died that Jonathan had gone berserk.

Hoshi wandered over to the ready room door. Amazingly, it opened at the touch of her finger on the button. As an energy-saving measure, Trip had cut power not only to the turbolifts but to all the doors, and had installed latches on them. He must have forgotten about this one, or maybe it had been too painful to work on something that reminded him of his friend.

She took a step into the room and looked around curiously. Everything was the same as she remembered it.

A fond smile crossed her face as she saw the coffee cup next to the computer screen on the desk. How many times had she come in here to talk to the captain, only to find him guzzling coffee and calling up information on the screen?

There were some books on a shelf by the short couch, and she idly read the titles before moving over to look at the representations of the various Enterprises on the wall. If they didn't get out of this, would there be another Enterprise, she wondered.

She shook her head, trying to erase the morbid thought. If she would have known coming in here would depress her, she wouldn't have done it.

She was turning away from the pictures when she saw a movement out of the corner of her eye. No one else was supposed to be in here, and her heart pounded as she tried to figure out what she had seen.

Wide-eyed, she was gazing around apprehensively when the flicker came again, and she realized she had been mistaken. There was nothing in the ready room with her -- the movement was coming from outside. There was something outside the window.

She backed slowly toward the door, keeping her eyes on the view outside the window. Not that there was much to see -- a black field with only a very few distant stars. She stared unblinkingly until her eyes started to tear.

There it was again! The barest shimmer of light far away. It gleamed for a few moments and then faded.

She'd never seen anything like it in the two years they'd been stuck here. No one ever saw anything outside. It had gotten to the point that they'd closed most of the blast shields simply because the relentless sameness was so depressing. Since no one came in the ready room any more, they'd forgotten about this window, and its blast shield hadn't been lowered.

Her back up against the door jamb, she waited to see if the light would appear again. A lesson from her Starfleet communications training came back to her, and she became excited as she recalled the instructor emphasizing that audio signals weren't the only method of communication. Some species relied on visual languages.

Maybe there was someone else out there, someone who could navigate in this glue they were stuck in, someone who could help them. She conjectured that such aliens would use visual communications, since audio transmissions didn't work here.

Again the glimmer of light shone faintly in the distance. She stared at it transfixed until it faded again.

But what if the light was coming from an intelligent species that was hostile? The fear she'd felt when she first saw the light resurfaced.

She had to let the others know what she had seen but she'd have to go out on the bridge to do so. In the meantime, it would be just her luck that that light would disappear and no one but her would have seen it. Would the others think she'd been hallucinating or, even worse, falling victim to the madness?

Hoshi rushed to the internal comm unit on the main communications console on the bridge. Keying the button to open a line to the other parts of the ship, the irony of the situation struck her. What a time for Malcolm not to accompany her to the bridge! She'd been happy to have a little time alone without him. Now she regretted that he wasn't here to back up what she had seen.

T'Pol answered the comm and Hoshi told her about the light. There was a long pause before T'Pol said anything.

"Can Mr. Reed confirm this?" the Vulcan asked, knowing the habits of her officers and that Malcolm normally would be with Hoshi.

"He's not here right now," Hoshi said, her heart sinking, realizing T'Pol was going to doubt her.

There was another long pause. "Go back and monitor what you see outside," T'Pol said. "I will be there directly."

Hoshi cut the connection and went back into the ready room. She stood gazing out the window, hoping the light would continue to appear after T'Pol arrived.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I seemed to be having some kind of problem in Ch. 3 and 4. Several paragraphs near the beginning of each chapter were dropped out. I've reposted them, and they seem to be ok, and am hoping it doesn't occur with this chapter. If there seems to be a sentence that doesn't make sense (because of missing words or misspellings), please let me know. I'd appreciate it.

CHAPTER 5

T'Pol peered intently at the bright spot in the otherwise dark vastness of space. On either side of her, Trip and Malcolm did the same.

"How often does it appear?" T'Pol asked Hoshi after the light faded.

Hoshi's face scrunched up as she thought. "I don't know. Every two and a half minutes or so, I think."

"Does it appear to be coming closer?"

"I've only seen it something like nine or ten times," Hoshi said rather huffily. "It's looked pretty much the same every time."

Hoshi had been relieved when the light appeared after the others had arrived in the ready room. She hadn't been seeing things. But the vindication of her mental stability was rapidly giving way to annoyance as T'Pol continued to question her about things for which she had no answers. All she'd done was discover the darned thing.

Malcolm picked up on Hoshi's mood and took a supportive step toward her.

"What were you doing in here, Ensign?" T'Pol asked.

Hoshi glanced at Malcolm, then looked away. She still felt a little guilty about enjoying being away from him for a brief time.

"I don't know what I was doing in here," she admitted. "Just curious, I guess, to see if it was still the same as it used to be when...the captain was..."

As her voice trailed off, she saw understanding cross T'Pol's usually unchanging features. T'Pol missed the captain, too. Despite T'Pol's Vulcan steadfastness, Hoshi realized it must be terribly difficult to be the one in charge, especially given these circumstances.

Hoshi had always thought the captain and T'Pol would get together some day. She flicked her gaze to Trip to find him staring at T'Pol. He must know he hadn't been T'Pol's first choice. They hadn't gotten together until after the captain had gone mad.

Hoshi felt sorry for Trip, but she had her own problems to deal with, one of which was him hitting on her.

"We must study this phenomenon," T'Pol was saying, bringing Hoshi's wandering attention back to the ready room. "First, we must determine if it is in motion or is stationary."

All business now in the face of this new project, Trip and Malcolm looked at each other.

"We're gonna have to do it the old-fashioned way, since sensors don't work," Trip said.

Malcolm nodded and rubbed his chin. "I don't think we have a sextant or even land-surveying equipment on board," he said. "I'll check the inventory lists to make sure. If we don't, I suppose we could fashion something rudimentary. The few stars out there should be enough to use for triangulation."

"We will need to set up rotating shifts of crewmembers once we have the equipment," T'Pol stated. "I'll check the crew roster to determine if anyone has such experience."

"Shouldn't someone stay here and keep an eye on it until we get the schedule set up?" Hoshi asked.

T'Pol looked at her unblinkingly. "I see no purpose to it. The phenomenon will either continue or it won't. Having someone 'keep an eye' on it until we set up the monitoring schedule will make no difference." She started for the door, only to stop and turn back to Hoshi. "Unless, for lack of anything better to do, you are volunteering to watch it?"

Malcolm, catching Hoshi's eye and shaking his head, answered before she could. "We still have to go after the solder for Trip and the ration packs. We'll do that after I know whether we need to scavenge materials to make the surveying equipment."

Hoshi's stomach clenched into a tight knot. In the excitement over her discovery, she'd almost forgotten they had to go back to the lower decks again.

Noticing her downcast expression, Malcolm said, "Let's get something to eat. I can look over the inventory lists at the same time."

Following him out of the ready room, Hoshi reflected that Malcolm's interest in food was another area in which he'd changed. He used to ignore eating, like it wasn't important. Now he often seemed to use mealtime as a way to bond with her.

Maybe that whack on the head had changed him just as much as the madness was trying to. It was after that incident that he had become so clingy and protective of her.

As he led the way to the mess hall, the memory of how he'd received the scar on his temple rose unbidden in her mind.

They had been on one of their first missions below-decks shortly after the ship had been divided into sections. She couldn't remember exactly what they had been looking for but she recalled that they didn't find it. What they had found was a group of three crewmen sitting on the deck in one of the corridors.

Malcolm had wanted to backtrack and use another corridor instead of trying to go past them. Hoshi thought the crewmen looked docile and had disagreed, and had walked toward them before Malcolm could stop her.

She had recognized all three, and she had put a pleasant smile on her face as she approached them. She was just opening her mouth to say hello when Crewman Dillard, formerly of engineering, jumped up and grabbed her by the throat.

Malcolm had pulled Dillard off her and shoved him aside. As Malcolm had pushed her behind him, one of the other crewmen swung a club, striking him in the temple and knocking him to the deck.

Hoshi had gotten her phase pistol unholstered by then and stunned Malcolm's attacker before turning it on the other two.

She'd wound up dragging Malcolm to the ladder at the access hatch, no mean feat since it was on the other side of the ship from where they were. She still occasionally had dreams about it, seeing the trail of blood left by his dripping six-centimeter wound on the side of his forehead. But in her nightmares, a pack of crazed crewmen were following them, baying like hounds scenting a trail.

Unable to lift Malcolm up the ladder by herself, she'd had to leave him when she went for help. The minute it took to climb the ladder and punch in the access code on the hatch lock was the longest she had ever experienced. All the while, she was terrified someone would come along and kill Malcolm.

As soon as the hatch had popped open and Travis had seen the look on her face, he'd hopped down past her. Between the two of them, they'd managed to get Malcolm up the ladder and to sickbay.

Luckily that had happened before the captain, in the onset of his madness, had hurt Phlox. The doctor was able to stop the bleeding. He could even have removed the scar, but for some perverse reason Hoshi couldn't understand, Malcolm had wanted to keep it.

A question from Malcolm as they entered the mess hall intruded upon her recollections.

"Worried about going after supplies?" he asked as they walked through the mess hall to the galley. Chef no longer set up a serving line or filled the self-serve food cabinets; everyone helped themselves from whatever was cooking on the stove or was set out on one of the countertops in the galley.

"A little," she admitted, picking up a bowl. "I was actually thinking about Doctor Phlox."

"Oh?" Malcolm said as he ladled thick vegetable soup into her bowl and filled another for himself.

"Yes. I haven't been to see him for some time. I ought to go visit."

Malcolm didn't say anything more until they'd each picked up some bread to go with the soup and found a place to sit in the mess hall. As they started to eat, he remarked, "Phlox probably doesn't hear you, you know."

Hoshi made a face. They'd had this discussion before.

"There's a chance he might," she said. "Sometimes unconscious people can hear what's going on around them. Stasis can't be that much different."

Malcolm made a noncommittal murmur as he ate.

"Besides," Hoshi continued undeterred, "I want to tell him about the light I saw. It might give him some hope about getting out of here and getting help for him."

Phlox's brain had been damaged when the captain had attacked him. He'd never regained consciousness afterward, and keeping him in sickbay, caring for him in a coma, wasn't an option. No one on board had the expertise to keep him alive in such a state.

Trip, working with breakthroughs that had occurred on Earth about the time Enterprise was launched, had devised a stasis chamber in which to put Phlox. It was just off sickbay, and one of Liz Cutler's duties was to check on Phlox every day.

Hoshi didn't know how Liz could do it. She and the doctor had been close friends. It must hurt horribly to have to take care of him the way he was now.

Malcolm and Hoshi lapsed into silence as they ate their meal. Hoshi was lost in memories of what had been, and Malcolm was checking over the quartermaster's PADD with the inventory list. Too bad the quartermaster was one of the crew who was now below-decks. The man used to know where every item on board could be found, most of the time without checking the files.

"Well," Malcolm said as he finished his soup and dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. "No sextant. Not that I was expecting to find one."

"What about that other stuff?" Hoshi asked. "The surveying equipment?"

"No, not that, either," he said. "We're going to have to find some optical lenses. We'll need to check with Trip on that."

Hoshi watched Malcolm's face closely. She didn't see any resentment on his part about having to work with Trip. Not that she expected to right now. Malcolm got jazzed before going below decks. Must be something to do with the anticipation of the danger they'd be facing or perhaps the challenge of the mission, she thought.

Whatever the reason, while she became tense and scared, he'd be almost giddy as if he were experiencing a chemically induced high. They'd become the perfect foils for each other, she thought as they picked up their dishes and took them back to be washed in the galley. Maybe that's what had kept them alive through so many dangerous excursions below decks.

She prayed their luck continued.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

Trip imparted one last piece of information as Hoshi and Malcolm prepared to descend to the lower decks.

"I talked T'Pol into havin' somebody keep watch on that light," Trip said in a conspiratorial tone to Hoshi as she put on her holster. "I mean, what if it suddenly showed up right next to the ship?"

"That's exactly what I was thinking," said Hoshi. "If it is somebody out there, they aren't necessarily here to help us. We should be prepared."

With a jerk of his head toward Malcolm, Trip commented, "You been hangin' around this guy too long. He's supposed to be the paranoid one."

Hoshi's head shot up in displeasure at his words and she opened her mouth to tell him off. Then she saw his grin. He was teasing her.

She blew out a gust of air as she realized that Trip actually was right -- she was becoming paranoid. With a slight smile, she took the phase pistol he held out to her.

At least Malcolm hadn't taken offense. He was too wired on adrenaline at the moment to pay close attention to her conversation with Trip.

"Ready?" Malcolm asked her as he took the other pistol from Trip and holstered it.

She nodded and stood to the side as Malcolm unlocked the hatch and stepped onto the ladder. As soon as he had moved down far enough, Hoshi stepped onto the ladder and began climbing down. The hatch was slammed shut above her, and she stopped for a moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the lower light level.

"Malcolm!" she said, projecting her voice as much as possible while whispering. "Is it darker than usual down here?"

He had reached the bottom of the ladder and was looking from side to side, his phase pistol in hand. "I think you're right," he said softly as she finished climbing down the ladder. "Some of the light fixtures must be broken or burned out."

As they began moving cautiously down the corridor, he added, "If this keeps up, we're going to have to rely totally on hand torches when we come down here."

An involuntary shudder ran through Hoshi's body. It was spooky enough down here without having to depend on flashlights. Eventually, if the lighting got too bad, they'd have to replace some of the fixtures. It wouldn't be right to let the people who had to live down here stumble around in the dark.

They headed for the armory first. There were some targeting scanners there they might be able to cannibalize for parts to make the measuring-surveying devices. She took up position guarding Malcolm's back as he unlocked the door to his former domain.

Usually Hoshi would remain in the hall while Malcolm entered whatever compartment or cabin was their goal. This time, however, he was going to need help removing the scanner pieces. As soon as he had the door open and had slipped inside, Hoshi followed.

Together they pushed the door closed. If anyone did pass by, they might not realize the door had been tampered with. Rather than leave the big mag-lock on the deck in the corridor outside as a dead give-away that the door wasn't secured, Malcolm had brought it inside. Hoshi hoped that if anyone did wander by, they wouldn't notice the lock was gone.

Once the door was shut, they turned on their flashlights. The lighting in the armory had been disabled to discourage anyone who might break in. Not that there was much left in the armory -- Malcolm and his staff had pretty much cleaned it out when the decision was made to segregate the ship's crew.

Malcolm led the way across the room. Handing Hoshi his flashlight, he pulled at a panel and yanked it loose. She handed his flashlight back to him and he pointed it into the opening.

"Ah-hah," he said quietly. "There's something we can use."

He handed the flashlight to her again and, with her directing the beam into the opening, began detaching a component from the wiring.

Hoshi looked nervously over her shoulder. She could have sworn she'd heard something -- the faintest rustle of fabric as if pants legs had brushed together as someone was walking. But she didn't see anything. It was pitch black in the armory.

She had just turned her face back toward Malcolm when she heard it again.

"Malcolm!" she whispered harshly as she whirled to face the darkness, switching off both flashlights to help hide her and Malcolm. "There's someone in here with us."

Just as Hoshi had learned not to disregard Malcolm's directives during their below-deck excursions, he had learned to heed what her hearing told her. He, too, put his back to the open panel and reached blindly in the dark to take his flashlight from her. "Where?" he whispered.

"Main door, two meters to the left."

"On three, shine your torch on that spot," he told her sotto voce. "One. Two. Three!"

The beams of their flashlights flicked on and converged to the left of the door, catching the face of a startled man who froze in place. The features beneath the scraggly beard and longish hair were instantly recognizable.

"Captain!" Hoshi said in surprise.

Next to her, Malcolm muttered under his breath. "How did he get in here?"

Hoshi shook her head. She had no idea how the captain could have gotten in the armory without them knowing. If he'd come through the main door, they would have seen the light from the corridor. And she would have heard his movements if he'd come in through a ventilation duct.

Taking in the captain's disheveled appearance, she noticed something else. "He's got a stick or club of some sort," she said to Malcolm out of the corner of her mouth.

As if her words had broken a spell, Jonathan began advancing on them, a metal chair leg clutched in one of his hands.

"Malcolm, do something!" Hoshi said in alarm.

Aiming his pistol at their erstwhile leader, Malcolm said loudly, "Stop where you are, sir."

Instead of stopping, Jonathan walked toward them even more quickly, raising the club above his head.

Malcolm had no choice. He pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

Assuming a defensive stance, Malcolm yelled at Hoshi, "Shoot him!"

He had no sooner spoken than Jonathan was upon him. Malcolm ducked the swing of the club, giving Hoshi a clean shot, but nothing happened when she pulled the trigger of her pistol.

"It's not working!" she shouted, keeping her flashlight trained on the two men but taking a step back as the fight moved in her direction.

Malcolm, unable to get in any blows of his own, was dodging the club as Jonathan swung it back and forth. He dropped both his flashlight and the useless phase pistol, and reached out and grabbed the club as it swung by him yet again, trying to yank it away from the bigger man.

Hoshi watched in fascinated horror as Jonathan kept his grip on the club and slammed Malcolm, who was holding onto the other end, into one of the empty torpedo racks. Malcolm's head hit the rack hard and he crumpled to the deck.

Hoshi screamed out Malcolm's name, but her outburst only drew Jonathan's attention to her. She backed up, holding the light on him, until she came up against a bulkhead.

"Hoshi?" Jonathan whispered, reaching out as he slowly walked toward her.

Trying to repress a whimper, Hoshi waited for what was to happen. The people who were down here had violent tendencies. The captain had already hurt Malcolm. Was it her turn next?

As if reading her mind, Jonathan said soothingly, "Don't be afraid, Hoshi. I won't hurt you. Trip told me not to."

The captain had to be delusional. Trip didn't have any contact with the people living down here. Nobody did.

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

Jonathan tilted his head as he looked at her. "Trip. My friend, Trip," he said as if she weren't very bright. "He told me you were coming down here."

Hoshi was afraid, but a tiny spark of suspicion flared up at this information. "Why would Trip do that?" she asked.

Jonathan looked down at the still form of the tactical officer on the floor. "He doesn't like Malcolm," he said simply. Then his face twisted in anger, and his voice dropped to a hoarse, gravelly whisper. "I don't like Malcolm, either. He shot me and put me down here. I'm not the captain any more because of him." Looking back at Hoshi, his eyes glazed with madness, he continued, "Trip likes you. He said if I took care of Malcolm and took you to him, he'd make me captain again."

He bent over and retrieved Malcolm's flashlight from where it had fallen on the deck. Hoshi caught a glimpse of Malcolm as the light swept over his body. She thought she saw his chest rise with his breathing.

"You're too good for him," Jonathan said, following her gaze. "That's what Trip says."

Hoshi's mind was beset with the implications of the things Jonathan had said. Surely they were the ramblings of a deranged mind. He wasn't sane.

But it made an awful sense. Someone had to have told Jonathan they were coming. Somehow he'd gotten into the locked armory before they'd arrived. She hadn't heard Jonathan enter the armory because he had gotten there before them and was waiting.

And he'd been offered a powerful motivation -- do what Trip said, and he'd be the captain again.

The captaincy was a bribe to get Jonathan to do what Trip wanted. The only reason she could think of for Trip wanting Malcolm out of the way was that she would have no excuse to turn down his advances any more. Trip had made it clear he wanted an intimate relationship with her.

But no one in their right mind would agree to allow Jonathan Archer to command in his current mental state.

No one in their right mind, a little voice in her head mocked her. As Jonathan grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the door, she realized Trip must have succumbed to the madness as well.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

Jonathan dragged Hoshi to the armory entrance. Keeping a firm grip on her wrist, he pushed open the door with his free hand.

"Please, close the door," she said as he pulled her through into the dim corridor. "Someone might find Malcolm and...hurt him more."

Jonathan stopped and looked at her. A smile lit his face, and for a moment he looked so much like the man she'd worked with and admired for so long that her heart skipped a beat.

"No wonder Trip wants you," he said in a reasonable tone of voice that conveyed an off-kilter sensibility. "You care about everybody, even those you shouldn't."

"Please," she repeated earnestly.

"You've always been nice to me, Hoshi. For you, I'll do it."

He let go of her wrist and stood looking her as she rubbed it.

"Thank you," she said softly, not meeting his eyes.

His insanity-tinged smile grew bigger and he turned back to the armory to close the door. When he had it almost completely shut, she took off running down the corridor.

She hadn't gone ten paces before Jonathan caught up to her and his hands clamped painfully on her shoulders, halting her headlong rush.

He spun her around to face him, and she cringed at what she saw. His face was screwed up in fury, his eyes narrowed to slits.

"Trip's wrong about you!" he said, spittle flying from his lips. "You're no different from the others. You think I belong down here!"

He drew back a hand to strike her and she flinched. But before the blow could land, the corridor was lit by a flash from a phase pistol blast that struck Jonathan in the back. He collapsed in a heap at her feet.

Hoshi stumbled backward, her hand shielding her eyes. Temporarily blinded by the bright flash, she hadn't seen who had fired the weapon, but it had come from the direction of the armory.

"Malcolm?" she called out hopefully.

"Sorry to disappoint ya, darlin'."

A shiver ran down Hoshi's spine at the distinctive drawl. She'd always found Trip's accent comforting in its familiarity but now it suddenly seemed sinister. She watched, squinting, as he stepped out from around the bend in the corridor beyond the armory.

"How...?" she started to ask, lowering her hand as her eyes readjusted. "How did you get down here?"

Trip smiled confidently as he walked toward her, a phase pistol in his hand. "Since we stopped usin' the transporter to beam in food for the poor inmates down here, everybody seems to have forgotten about it. That's how I got Jon into the armory, too, before you got there."

"But...but..." Hoshi floundered. "That's dangerous -- transporting inside the ship!"

Trip stopped in front of her. "You're worth it, darlin'. Besides, I couldn't trust Jon alone with you. He's not playin' with a full deck. As you can see, it's a good thing I came to check on ya."

Hoshi took a step back and Trip frowned.

"That's not the reception I was hopin' for," he said ominously, "especially now that Malcolm's gone."

Her heart constricted painfully at his words. She didn't know for certain that Malcolm was dead.

Picking her words with care, trying to keep Trip from going into the armory and finishing off Malcolm if he wasn't dead, Hoshi said, "The captain said a few things about you."

Trip chuckled. "I expect he did. But who's gonna believe him?"

"Why are you doing this?" she asked.

Before he could answer, a noise came from behind Trip. He swung around to face the armory as the door was pushed open bit by bit. There, revealed in the dim lighting, was Malcolm.

Hoshi gasped in both shock and relief. He was alive! But there was blood on one of his cheeks, and the area around the eye on that side was swollen. He was gasping for breath after the exertion of opening the door.

"Get away from her!" the battered armory officer growled through clenched teeth, raising a shaking hand holding a phase pistol.

From slightly to one side of Trip, Hoshi could see the engineer smile derisively. But the smile disappeared when Malcolm squeezed the trigger and a blast from the previously malfunctioning pistol hit the bulkhead next to the engineer.

Seeing Trip's shocked expression, she realized he wasn't surprised that Malcolm had fired at him. What had surprised him was that Malcolm's pistol had worked.

"Hey, buddy!" Trip said, sticking his own phase pistol in his pocket and holding up his hands placatingly. "It's OK. I kept Jon from hurtin' her, that's all."

There was a tense moment as the two men stared at each other. Hoshi could tell Malcolm didn't trust Trip. But, to reinforce Trip's claim, there was the captain's body on the deck between them. She could almost see the wheels turning in Malcolm's head -- someone had to have stunned the captain, and she didn't have a phase pistol. It was back in the armory where she had dropped it.

"She's pretty shook up, Malcolm," Trip said, startling her when he reached over to grasp her arm and pull her forward, placing her like a shield in front of him. "I think she's hysterical."

"Trip!" she cried, trying to shake him off. "Let go of me!"

"See? She'll take off runnin' if I let go," he said to Malcolm as he tightened his grip. "She's not in her right mind. She thinks I wanna hurt her."

Malcolm, leaning against the door frame, studied the two of them. Lifting his free hand, he wiped some of the blood from his face. "Do you know why my pistol wasn't working?" he asked abruptly.

Trip shook his head as if he didn't know what Malcolm was talking about. "Looked like it worked fine when you took that potshot at me!"

"Before that!" Malcolm rasped. "The connection to the power cell was crossed. You gave us phase pistols that wouldn't work."

"He's trying to kill you, Malcolm," Hoshi interrupted urgently, knowing she sounded overwrought when she needed to remain calm. Trip was unbalanced, and Malcolm, who had an unsteady grasp on reality as it was, was facing a situation that could drive him over the edge.

"What!" Trip said, a look of incredulity on his face. "I'm not tryin' to kill ya, Malcolm. And one of your staff checked those pistols. I just handed them to ya."

"Malcolm, you've got to believe me!" Hoshi begged as she wrested her arm away from Trip. "He made a deal with the captain."

"What the hell are you talkin' about, Hoshi?" Trip countered immediately. Addressing Malcolm, he added, "She's talkin' outta her head. We need to get her topside."

"Shut up! Both of you!" Malcolm yelled. "We've all got to get out of here. All this noise has probably attracted the attention of the crew down here."

Keeping Trip covered with his pistol, Malcolm motioned with his other hand for them to come toward him. When they reached him, he handed Hoshi her pistol, which she had dropped in the armory.

Taking the gun, she asked, "What do we do now?"

"Did ya get any of the supplies?" Trip asked as if nothing had happened.

Malcolm stared at him, his eyes glittering brightly despite the dim lighting. "No, and we're not going to until you're out of here and back up where you belong. Why don't you lead the way back to the access hatch?"

"But as long as we're down--"

"Don't argue with me!" Malcolm said, raising his voice to a shout again. "If you get hurt down here, Enterprise's chances of getting unstuck will be practically non-existent. Down here, I'm in charge. I'm the one who knows what to do. And right now, I know you need to get out of here."

Hoshi breathed a sigh of relief. Malcolm was managing to hold on to his sanity.

At least she thought so until she heard him mutter as Trip walked away. It had sounded like he'd said, "Get out before I kill you, Trip."


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

They'd gone together to the access hatch. At no time had Malcolm turned his back on Trip. Hoshi knew Malcolm didn't trust the engineer, and she wondered why Malcolm hadn't shot him and been done with it.

The rage she could feel coming from Malcolm scared her. She held her tongue, not wishing to provoke him further. But she couldn't believe he wasn't doing anything about what had just happened. Did he believe what Trip had said about her being hysterical? Did he think she was lying about Trip and the captain plotting together to kill him?

Malcolm hadn't said a word as Trip had climbed the ladder and exited through the hatch. He'd grabbed her arm as she started for the ladder after Trip had gone through the opening.

"We still need to get the things we came down here for," he said, and had motioned for the guards above to close the hatch.

When they arrived outside the armory again, Malcolm took a moment to check the still unconscious Captain Archer. "He'll have a hell of a headache when he wakes up," he said in a monotone.

Jonathan wasn't the only one, Hoshi thought. All the tension of the last hour or so was building up behind her eyes, and she could feel a headache of her own coming on. She seriously doubted she'd be in the mood if, like he usually did, Malcolm wanted sex when they got back topside.

As it was, she was feeling strange. She should have been nervous and jumpy, but instead she was hoping someone would challenge them. With a start, she realized she would welcome a fight at this point. A tendril of fear touched her as she wondered if she was beginning to feel the madness herself. She tried to tell herself it was only a reaction to everything that had happened.

They got the pieces of the scanner from the armory, then moved on to the storage bay for the solder. The last thing they did was check the emergency locker, but the ration packs were gone.

"I expected that," Malcolm said. "The people down here are daft, not stupid."

He sounded angry, but not as much as he had been during the confrontation with Trip. Hoshi fervently hoped Malcolm was cooling off.

They made their way back to the ladder and out through the access hatch without any problems. Considering all the noise they'd made, especially in the confrontation with Trip, Hoshi was surprised they hadn't seen any of the below-decks residents. Then again, maybe the noise had scared them off. That, and the captain's body in the corridor outside the armory.

Neither Trip nor T'Pol were anywhere to be seen, either, when they clambered out the hatch.

Without a word, Malcolm handed his pistol and the bag with the items they'd procured to one of the crew standing guard. He glanced at Hoshi, his expression indicating he'd brook no argument, and turned on his heel. She had no choice but to fall in behind him after handing over her pistol to one of the guards.

If Malcolm expected everything to be like usual when they got back to their cabin, he had another thing coming, Hoshi thought, her temper rising.

Sure enough, she hadn't even turned around from shutting the door after entering their cabin when she felt his hands on her. Shrugging him off, she stepped aside and faced him, her arms across her chest.

"Not now. Not until we get some things straightened out," she said.

"What are you talking about?" Malcolm asked, confusion, desire, and anger all warring on his countenance. "What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me?" she asked. "Shouldn't that be what's wrong with you? You let Trip go! He tried to have you killed, and you act like nothing's wrong."

She started to pace. Malcolm watched her from hooded eyes as her tirade continued.

"I don't understand you, Malcolm," she said. "Any other time you would have welcomed the opportunity to rip him limb from limb."

Malcolm's eyes narrowed even more. "You think I'm crazy, don't you? You're like everybody else onboard. 'We need Malcolm, but don't trust him.' That's what they say, isn't it?"

Hoshi had no answer for that, because it was basically true. "Malcolm--"

"I'm not crazy!" he shouted, crossing the distance between them in two quick steps. He grabbed her by the upper arms and gave her a shake. "I may be stressed, I may be angry, I may be jealous as bloody hell, but I AM NOT CRAZY!"

His mouth plunged down over hers, taking what he wanted forcibly. She fought him for only a moment before giving in. She loved him too much, even if he was angry.

Even if he was crazy.

She knew something was wrong with him, no matter how much he denied it or tried to fight it. The madness was in him. Most of the time he could hold it in check. The few times he couldn't, she was his savior, there to soothe him and keep him sane.

She couldn't not help him this time. This was the worst she'd ever seen him. He'd never screamed at her before.

He guided her to the bunk, his mouth dominating hers the entire way. Hoshi felt her anger being overridden by desire, and gasped as her legs hit the bed, causing her to fall backward. Malcolm fell down with her, shifting at the last moment to avoid crushing her beneath him. She ripped at his clothing as he clawed at hers.

He had just peeled away her uniform top when the door chime sounded. Hoshi stilled, and Malcolm growled, "Ignore it!"

The chime sounded again, breaking her mood.

"Get off me!" she said, pushing him to the side.

Malcolm snarled but moved out of the way. Hastily putting her arms back into the sleeves of her uniform, she made her way across the cabin. She zipped up and ran her hands through her hair in a futile attempt to straighten it before opening the door.

Any words she would have said died on her lips when she saw who was on the other side.

"Hi, darlin'. Just checkin' on you two."

"Go away!" she said furiously.

She tried to slide the door shut, but Trip put his foot in the way. Looking over the top of her head at a disgruntled Malcolm propped up on one arm on the bed, he said, "I see he's about the same as usual. Don't know how ya put up with it."

Trying to shove him back out the door, Hoshi hissed, "What are you doing? Are you trying to get him to kill you?"

Trip laughed, a low and dangerous sound. "Oh, I've figured him out. He won't kill me." Reaching out, he chucked her under the chin. "See ya around, darlin'."

After one last taunting glance at Malcolm, Trip stepped back, and Hoshi was able to slam the door shut.

Turning to Malcolm, she asked, "What did he mean -- he's got you figured out?"

Malcolm fell onto his back on the bunk and tossed his arm over his eyes.

"Malcolm! What did he mean?" she insisted, walking to stand by the bed where she could look down at him.

"Despite what everyone thinks," Malcolm said softly, "I'm not crazy."

When Hoshi didn't say anything, he took his arm away from his eyes. He looked straight at her, and she could see that he was lucid.

"I don't trust Trip in the slightest," he said. "I haven't ever since I realized he's been coming on to you. A friend wouldn't do that. The jealousy and hurt have been eating me up inside."

"Oh, Malcolm," Hoshi said, sitting down on the bunk next to him and taking his hand in hers.

"There have been times I've felt like I wanted to kill him," Malcolm admitted. "But Enterprise needs him too much. If we ever hope to get out of this area of space, it will be because of some idea that Trip comes up with. He's a brilliant engineer."

Hoshi was immensely relieved at Malcolm's attitude. Then, without warning, she saw the madness come creeping back into his eyes.

"I'll have to wait until we're out of here before I kill him," he said, his calm, matter-of-fact tone making his words even more unnerving.

Hoshi sat in stunned silence for several moments, trying to make sense of something, anything.

"But...he tried to have you killed," she said finally, focusing on the one thing that scared her more than Malcolm admitting he would deliberately commit murder. "The same thing that's wrong with everyone who is below-decks is wrong with Trip. He should be locked up with them."

She rubbed her forehead with her free hand. She wasn't so sure she wasn't going mad herself. The situation was beyond bizarre.

Malcolm shut his eyes and gave her hand a squeeze. "I know he should be locked up. But as long as he can function up here, we've got to let him. He's our only hope of getting back to where we belong."


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

The items Hoshi and Malcolm had brought back from the armory were incorporated into a measuring device, a simple mechanical apparatus that didn't rely on circuitry.

The device was set up in the captain's ready room. Four crewmembers including Travis had some experience with triangulation using old-fashioned methods of charting. Hoshi wasn't surprised that Malcolm also understood how to interpret the readings. Something to do with his upbringing in a British navy household, she supposed.

Three days of measurements later, the only concrete data they had for their effort was that the light was getting larger. T'Pol concluded this must mean it was traveling toward them in a straight line.

Still, the light wasn't getting larger very quickly, so the sense of anticipation was stretched out almost to the point of being unbearable. It was going to be some time before they knew what it was.

In the meantime, Hoshi was walking on eggshells. She concentrated on her duties but kept an eye on Malcolm and, when he was around, Trip.

She had always trusted Malcolm. Even after the events of the past week, she trusted him. That he had said he would kill Trip worried her because she knew that was a manifestation of the madness. But she also knew he wouldn't kill Trip yet. Malcolm's devotion to his duties was too strong to be swayed, and he knew Enterprise needed Trip.

Trip was another matter. After what he'd tried to pull using the captain as his tool, she wouldn't put it past him to cook up another scheme to kill Malcolm.

What was most unsettling, however, was that Trip was acting as if nothing had happened. He would appear to be his usual genial self, laughing and joking when circumstances warranted such behavior. She and Malcolm had to go along with it to maintain the status quo. So far, there hadn't been any problems when they'd had to work with him.

There were times, though, when Hoshi caught Trip watching Malcolm with a calculating look on his face. When Trip would realize she was watching him, he'd give her a sardonic smile or a smirk. It was as if he was flaunting what he'd tried to do, and was daring her to do something about it.

She hadn't talked to anyone about what had happened below-decks. Malcolm had refused to discuss it other than when they'd talked about in their quarters right after it had happened, and she was afraid that T'Pol wouldn't believe her. So she held her peace, and waited and watched.

Ever since they'd been stuck here, Malcolm had been overly protective of her. Now the tables were turned as Hoshi became increasingly aware of his vulnerability. He was her protector but, whether he knew it or not, she'd become his.

Hoshi was afraid that Trip was planning something but she doubted he'd try anything below-decks again. She had insisted they be accompanied by two other people on any missions from now on. Citing how easily the captain had overpowered them, she had convinced Malcolm of the need for additional personnel when they went scavenging.

That left the secure portions of the ship for an attack, and as she tried to anticipate what Trip might do, she was surprised at how many devious ways came to mind for doing a person in. Accidents would be easy to stage, especially aboard a starship that was slowly falling apart. There were ways to kill someone that could be made to look like an accident and no one would be the wiser.

She was brooding about the possibilities as she and Malcolm ate breakfast one morning. Taking a bite of her toast -- no butter, as Chef had long ago started rationing it -- she looked up to see Trip come out of the galley with a cup and a coffeepot. Approaching their table, he set down the items and took a seat, saying, "How ya two doin'?"

Hoshi couldn't believe his audacity. Here he was, cozying up to them, acting as if he'd never tried to kill Malcolm.

She heard Malcolm grunt an acknowledgement as he continued to eat. She forced herself to say, "Fine."

There was an awkward silence. Trip stirred some sugar in his coffee, looking from her to Malcolm and back again. Finally he said, "T'Pol thinks by tomorrow we should be able to have an idea of how big that thing out there is."

Hoshi stared at him in surprise. This was the first she'd heard of it. As Trip went on to speculate about what the object was, he lifted the pot and poured some more coffee into his cup, then casually topped off Malcolm's cup.

Hoshi's cup was empty, and she slid it toward Trip as an indication she wanted more coffee, too. Glancing at his face, she found him staring at her with a peculiar expression. Before she could speak, he stood up, coffeepot in hand, and said he had to get back to engineering.

That was strange, she thought as Trip walked away. He had seen her cup was empty but hadn't poured any coffee into it. In fact, he'd taken the coffeepot away with him. Why...?

She tossed her arms out as if stretching just as Malcolm raised his cup to his lips, and her hand knocked the cup from his hand, spilling its contents.

"Hoshi!" Malcolm cried, jumping as the hot liquid splashed onto his fingers.

"Oh, Malcolm! I'm so sorry!" she said. "It's my fault. Let me help you clean that up."

She swiped her napkin at the splatters on the table. Lifting the napkin to her nose, she sniffed.

"What are you doing?" Malcolm asked in bemusement as he dried his fingers with his napkin. "The coffee's not that good."

She gave him a wan smile and rubbed the tip of her nose with the cloth. "I know it's not. My nose itches, silly."

No sense in alarming him, she thought as he grinned at her and shook his head. She didn't smell anything in the coffee she had wiped up, but a poison might not have a detectable odor.

Poison would be an easy way to kill someone. A fatal substance could be administered in food or drink. Since they all ate from communal pots and pans in the galley, however, she hadn't considered that Trip would try it.

But she'd noticed that Trip hadn't taken a single sip from his own cup after he'd filled it, and he'd avoided putting any coffee in her cup, not to mention that strange look he had given her when it was obvious she wanted a refill.

Best not to say anything, she figured. She didn't want to give Malcolm a reason to become more paranoid. Another murder attempt might be enough to set him off, despite his intention to leave Trip alone for the time being.

Or, if she told him that she thought Trip had poisoned the coffee, Malcolm might think she was losing her own marbles. That was the last thing she needed right now. If he believed she was going off her rocker, he wouldn't trust her. There might come a time when his trust in her would be the only thing that could save him.

Hoshi didn't have any appetite for the rest of her breakfast. Sliding her chair back from the table, she looked over to see Malcolm watching her curiously.

"Are you all right?" he asked. "You're acting rather funny."

"I'm fine," she said, putting on a bright smile. "Are you coming with me to the bridge?"

He nodded and picked up his plate and cup. Together they walked to the galley to take their dishes to the washer before heading out of the mess hall.

When they arrived on the bridge, Hoshi could see Travis and Crewman Foster through the open door of the ready room. She raised a hand in greeting as she went to the communications console. Malcolm gave her a pat on the shoulder as she sat down before he took a brief turn around the bridge and then stepped into the ready room.

The distress signal was working properly. Not that Hoshi expected anything else. It had worked perfectly the seven hundred-plus times she had already checked it. She wondered how much longer it would have to send out its plaintive call.

Maybe if the mysterious approaching light was a spacecraft crewed by friendly aliens, they wouldn't have to call for help for much longer. Until they found out for sure what that light was, she'd decided to hold onto the hope that it was someone who could help them.

She began sending out the daily hails. In the background, she could hear the men talking in the ready room. Travis had seemed in a better mood since he'd started therapy on his leg, and she could hear the cheerfulness in the tone of his voice. She was glad her friend was in a better frame of mind. It had hurt to see him so depressed.

As she switched through the frequencies, Hoshi eavesdropped on the conversation in the ready room. They talked about the measurements they were taking, excited that the light was getting closer but noting that, other than taking the readings every half hour, the rest of the time they spent in the ready room was boring.

Hoshi had to smile at that. It was the same way she felt sending out the hails every day. The boredom could be awful, even more so when nothing changed, she thought as she dropped her gaze to the monitors on her console.

What she saw made her jaw drop. There was no feedback registering at all, and the hails were getting out on every frequency.

"Malcolm!" she yelled excitedly as she hunted frantically for her long-discarded earpiece. "Malcolm! Come quick!"

She located the earpiece in a drawer on the console just as Malcolm, alerted by the urgency in her voice, came rushing out of the ready room. Travis and Foster followed to see what the excitement was about.

"What is it, Hoshi?" Malcolm asked.

"The signal is getting through!" she said, putting the earpiece in and keying in long-unused commands on the console.

"That hasn't ever happened except that one time," Travis commented with a grin on his face. "Maybe somebody will hear it!"

An answering smile on her face, Hoshi said, "Let's hope!"

"I bet it has something to do with that light," Travis said.

Frowning, Malcolm said, "I'm sure it does."

"What's the matter, Lieutenant?" Travis inquired. "Somebody's finally going to hear us. We'll be able to get out of here!"

"Let's just hope they're coming to help us," Malcolm said grimly, "and not to finish us off. You better get back in there and keep watching it, Travis, just in case it picks up speed and gets here sooner than we anticipated."

Travis' enthusiasm died. Motioning for Foster to follow, he returned to the ready room.

"You didn't have to be so harsh," Hoshi said softly to Malcolm as she adjusted the earpiece. "It's the first good sign we've had in a long time."

"They could be coming to help us," he conceded, "but I wouldn't count on it. Not the way our luck has been the last two years."

Sighing, Hoshi nodded. He was right, of course. They should be cautious. Still, she couldn't keep from hoping that help was on the way.

"Contact T'Pol," Malcolm ordered. "She needs to be up here in case we get a return message."


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

"There hasn't been any interference for fifteen minutes," Hoshi said. "In fact, I've finished the entire set of hails, so I'm sending them again."

T'Pol, Trip, Malcolm, and Travis were gathered around Hoshi at the communications console on the bridge. Crewman Foster, lowest in rank among those present, had been relegated to the ready room to keep watch on the light.

"Very good, Ensign," T'Pol said. "Have you picked up any transmissions in return?"

"No," she said.

T'Pol paced away a few steps, thinking. "Is there any way to tell if the object approaching us has received our hails?"

"No."

T'Pol was turning back to the group just as Hoshi's console emitted a beep. The eyes of everyone on the bridge were drawn to the console, except Hoshi's. She looked at T'Pol, waiting permission to answer the incoming call.

"Go ahead, Ensign," T'Pol instructed her. "Open the channel."

Hoshi gulped, suddenly nervous as to what they might hear. She depressed the button to open the channel and put the transmission on the bridge speakers.

"...to Enterprise. This is the Blaniat cruiser Rendarat. We will assist you. Enterprise, respond."

The message was in English. Hoshi traded an astounded smile with Travis and Malcolm, and even bestowed one upon Trip. This was too good to be true.

"This is Enterprise," T'Pol said calmly. "Any assistance you can provide would be appreciated. Our engines are unable to function in--"

"We are familiar with this area of space, Enterprise," interrupted the voice on the other end of the transmission. "Prepare to receive information relevant to your situation."

Malcolm and Trip both looked at T'Pol to see her reaction. She merely raised an eyebrow, and Trip remarked, "Get right to the point, don't they?"

Another button on Hoshi's console lit up, and she pressed a few keys. "Incoming compressed data burst, Sub-commander," Hoshi reported. "It's quite large from the looks of it."

T'Pol lifted her chin and spoke again. "Rendarat, are you the vessel we have been monitoring visually?"

"Highly likely," came the response. "Our pulsating beacon reflects off your hull, guiding us to your location."

"Can you give us an estimate of the time of your arrival?" she asked.

There was a pause as if the speaker was checking something, then the voice came back. "Approximately three days, seventeen hours, your time."

Hoshi caught T'Pol's eye. "Data burst transmission is complete."

"Study the information we have transmitted," the voice said. "It will answer your questions. We will contact you again in twelve of your hours."

The transmission was cut and, without warning, a horrendous screeching filled the bridge. Hoshi winced and ripped the earpiece out of her ear with one hand as she flipped the switch to shut off the external speakers with the other.

Through the ringing in her ears, she heard Malcolm say, "They must have been doing something to allow us to send and receive communication signals. It's too much of a coincidence that it cleared up just long enough to talk to them."

"Agreed," T'Pol said.

"But, that doesn't mean they have some ulterior motive," Trip said. "Maybe they've developed some technology that allows them to work around the problem, but it could eat up a lot of power real quick."

"That would explain the...abruptness...of their communication," T'Pol said. Focusing on Hoshi, she said, "Will you need to do anything to the data burst to allow it to be processed by our system?"

Hoshi, who had been working at the console during the other officers' conversation, shook her head in disbelief. "You can access it now, Sub-commander." She looked up at T'Pol with something close to wonder in her eyes. "Not only is it in English, it's formatted for our system's requirements. How did they know that?"

"It is useless to speculate until we have viewed the information," T'Pol said. "Send the information to the computer in my cabin. I will review it there and then make it available to the rest of the senior staff."

Hoshi could tell Malcolm, who was frowning, was impatient to find out what the information was about. He had to be worried about any threats the Blaniats might pose.

Trip, on the other hand, was practically dancing with excitement. A boyish grin lit his face as, talking a mile a minute, he followed T'Pol off the bridge. She heard him say something about propulsion systems. He'd be most interested in how the Blaniats managed to move around in this area of space.

At the moment, it was hard to believe Trip wasn't totally sane. He seemed so much like his former self right now that Hoshi could almost believe the attempts -- well, one attempt and a possible attempt, because she wasn't sure about the coffee -- on Malcolm's life were figments of her imagination.

Maybe the Blaniats' arrival would give everyone a reason to hang on and, in Trip's case, behave.

As T'Pol and Trip left the bridge, Travis walked over to the helm and sat down in his old seat. He caressed the controls almost reverently.

Malcolm and Hoshi traded an indulgent smile. "Been a long time, hasn't it, Travis?" Malcolm said.

"Yes, sir," he replied. "It sure has. I'm getting a little tired of assisting Chef since there's no piloting. I hope I remember how to do this."

Hoshi laughed out loud. The possibility of being rescued had lifted her spirits considerably. "Isn't piloting a starship like riding a bicycle?" she teased. "You never forget how to do it?"

"I certainly hope so," Travis said with a chuckle.

"Don't worry, Travis," Malcolm put in dryly. "I'm sure you'll remember all the important things -- up, down, left, right."

"That's port and starboard, sir," Travis said, the upturned corners of his mouth belying his serious tone.

As Travis reacquainted himself with the helm controls, Malcolm turned to Hoshi.

"I have to check on my staff," he told her. "We're still trying to figure out a way to make the power cells hold a charge longer."

"I thought Trip was working on that," she said.

His expression told her more eloquently than words what he thought of Trip doing any work on the phase pistols.

"I see your point," she said softly, then raised her voice, aware that Travis could be overhearing what they were talking about. "I'm going to stay up here for a while. It's been a long time since I've done any maintenance on the communications system, and we'll need it working well for when the Blaniats get here."

Malcolm threw a glance over his shoulder to see Travis absorbed in whatever it was he was doing at the helm. Looking back to Hoshi, he leaned down and gave her a peck on the cheek.

"I'll see you later," he said.

"You better," she said with a smile.

He laughed and gave her another quick kiss.

As Malcolm left the bridge, Hoshi began running diagnostics on her console, more excited about her work than she had been in a long time.


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

Hoshi was finishing up the diagnostics on the communications console when T'Pol comm'd her. The sub-commander was sending the Blaniat data to all the senior officers, and asked Hoshi to inform them that they could now access the information.

"You needn't contact Commander Tucker. I have informed him," T'Pol said, causing Hoshi to snicker. Hoshi knew about their relationship, and Trip had probably been standing outside her cabin the entire time T'Pol had been going over the information.

Travis had left some time ago at the end of his shift monitoring the light ship, as Hoshi had come to think of it. She comm'd him in his quarters and told him the news.

Remembering Malcolm's earlier comment, she called the cargo bay on Deck C where the armory equipment was now stored. She found him checking over the most recent tests of the power cells.

"Send the information to the computer in our cabin," he told her. "I'll look at it there as soon as I've cleaned this up and returned the power cells to engineering."

The channel closed, and Hoshi switched her attention to the Blaniat information, accessing the data and settling down at her bridge console to read.

Quite some time later, she felt like she had absorbed so much data that her head would explode. The Blaniats had sent almost too much information. But at least some questions she'd had ever since Enterprise had become stuck were now answered.

The Blaniats were responsible for their predicament. Not these particular Blaniats, but others of their species. The Blaniat homeworld apparently couldn't keep the same government in power for more than five or six years at a stretch. It had been Enterprise's bad luck to stumble across a Blaniat freighter when an isolationist regime held sway.

Under strict orders to avoid contact with other species while en route to their destination, the freighter's captain had given the order to open fire upon Enterprise in an effort to discourage contact. When that hadn't worked, the freighter sent out a call for assistance, and the three Blaniat warships had shown up.

The Blaniats didn't consider themselves to be a vicious people. They hadn't destroyed Enterprise out of hand. The warships instead had, through clever manuevering, herded the Earth ship to this place. The Blaniats had long known of the unusual properties of space in these parts and considered it a fitting punishment for those who dared to intrude upon their isolationism.

When that government was overthrown a short time later, no one in the new government was aware of what had happened to Enterprise. The Blaniats now coming to their aid were honest enough to admit that, had they known, they still might not have sought to do anything to reverse the situation. Governments came and went on their homeworld, and if they tried to straighten out every mess left by previous rulers, they wouldn't have time for anything else.

But they couldn't ignore an outright plea for help. When they picked up Enterprise's distress signal the one time it had managed to get through six months ago, they were obligated to mount a rescue attempt. It had taken four months to prepare the vessel that would be used, and another two months to reach them.

Hoshi sat back in her chair, rubbing her weary eyes. It was a good thing the government hadn't changed hands yet again, she thought. She had no idea what would have happened to the rescue attempt if another set of politicians had taken over.

The overall impression she got of the Blaniats was not a good one. Apparently the majority of them were willing to follow whoever was in charge at any given time, no matter what their policies were.

The Blaniats had admitted their warships had tapped into Enterprise's communications and had been able to learn their language as well as find out some information about their various operational systems. Malcolm would be interested in knowing that, Hoshi thought, and right now might even be working on a way to prevent it from happening again.

They'd left out some important information, too. There was nothing about the mental instability affecting the crew. Were the Blaniats unaware of it, or were they not affected by it?

And how were they able to make their ship move? That issue hadn't been addressed at all in the information she'd just read.

They didn't even know what the Blaniats looked like. The information had been comprised totally of text. There had been no visuals.

Hoshi comm'd for a relief to come to the bridge. The communications console hadn't been manned continuously for over a year now. They hadn't had a reason to do so. Now, however, someone needed to be at communications round the clock in case the Blaniats contacted them again.

As Hoshi waited for her relief to arrive, her console beeped. She had to smile at the coincidence -- she had just been thinking about the Blaniats using text and now T'Pol had sent her a text message. The message read: "Staff meeting. 1500. Captain's Mess."

T'Pol would probably want to pick their brains about the Blaniats, Hoshi thought. She looked at the chronometer and was startled to see that it was 1450. She'd been so absorbed in her work and then reading the Blaniat information that she'd lost track of time and had missed lunch.

Damn! She'd have to hurry to make it on time. Since the turbolifts were no longer operational -- another of Trip's energy-saving measures -- it took longer to get anywhere on the ship using the ladders between decks.

Hoshi left the bridge as soon as her relief showed up. Malcolm probably was on his way to the meeting from their quarters where he had been going over the information. She would have liked to have gotten his impression of the Blaniats beforehand, but knowing him, he was probably more distrustful of them than she was.

She hustled down one ladder, crossed the deck to where the next ladder was located, and climbed down it. Two more ladders after that, and she was on E deck where the mess hall was located. She arrived outside the captain's mess with less than a minute to spare. Pausing to catch her breath, she smoothed down her hair and checked to make sure her threadbare uniform was neat.

To her surprise, there was no one in the captain's mess when she entered. She was looking back out at the main mess hall to see if any of the others were coming when the other door to the captain's mess opened.

The main door closed behind her as she turned around to see Trip entering from the steward's prep area that led to the galley.

"Hey!" he called out. "You the first here?"

"Seems like it," she said. "The others must be running late."

Trip gave her a smile as he walked farther into the room. "They're probably still wadin' through all that information. Sure was a lot of it."

She nodded, keeping her eye on him. She was reasonably certain she was safe with him. It wasn't her he wanted to kill, after all. He wanted something else entirely from her. Still, if it weren't for the fact that the others would be showing up at any moment, she might have been nervous alone with him.

As it was, she took a step away when he moved toward her.

Her reaction didn't go unnoticed. He stopped where he was, averting his face as if embarrassed.

"I'm gonna look for something to drink while we're waitin' on the others," he said, going back into the steward's area. "Surely there's somethin' stashed away that's appropriate to celebrate our upcomin' rescue."

Hoshi could hear the opening and closing of cabinet doors, followed by a satisfied exclamation from Trip and the sound of glassware clinking. In a few moments, he came back into the captain's mess carrying a tray with a bottle and glasses.

"Champagne?" Hoshi said in astonishment as she caught a glimpse of the bottle's label as Trip put the tray down. "We've had champagne on board for two years, and no one's found it?"

"Apparently not," Trip replied, beginning to remove the cork.

"Um...shouldn't we wait for the others?" she asked.

"Nah. I'm too excited to wait on 'em," Trip said with a grin as the cork flew out with a loud pop and the champagne overflowed.

Hoshi grabbed a glass to hold under the bubbling beverage. Trip quickly picked up the other glass and filled it as well. He put the bottle down on the tray and turned to her.

"Here's to us," he said, holding his glass up.

Wondering what was keeping the other officers, Hoshi raised the glass to her lips. She had always liked champagne, but she'd never had it warm. She wasn't sure she was going to like this.

As the rim of the glass touched her lips, she glanced at Trip. He hadn't moved. He hadn't even raised his glass to his lips, and he was watching her closely.

Alarm bells went off in her head. She already suspected him of trying to poison Malcolm. Was he trying to do the same to her?

A darting glance at the tray on the table showed her a detail she hadn't noticed at first -- there were no glasses for the others.

She slowly lowered her glass, her eyes locked with his.

"What are you up to this time, Trip?" she asked evenly.

He looked at her in puzzlement. "What are you talkin' about, Hoshi?"

"Go ahead. Take a drink," she dared him.

"I was waitin' on you," he said. "Ladies first and all that."

"I don't want any," she said, "at least not until T'Pol and the others get here."

Trip sighed theatrically. "Well, I guess ya caught me out, Hoshi." Giving her one of his most charming smiles, he put his glass down on the table. "There is something in the champagne."

"I knew it!" she exclaimed, surprised that she wasn't feeling panicked. Instead, she was becoming angry. As soon as the others arrived, she'd expose Trip once and for all, no matter how much Enterprise needed him.

Placing her glass on the table, she said, "You're trying to kill me, too."

"Oh no, darlin'! Never that," Trip said reassuringly. "I'd never hurt you. The stuff in the champagne is a sedative. I told Liz I was havin' trouble sleepin' and she got me this stuff. I just wanted to make you a little more cooperative."

Hoshi's skin crawled. She hadn't considered that he might try something like this, at least not while Malcolm was around. Maybe she'd been too preoccupied worrying about Malcolm's safety to think about her own.

Trip slowly walked toward her, and she just as slowly backed up. The bulkhead stopped her retreat, and she had nowhere to go. Trip had managed to position himself between her and both doors.

"T'Pol and Malcolm and Travis will be here any moment," she said.

"No, they won't," he said confidently, closing the distance between them.

"Yes, they will. We have a staff meeting."

"No, we don't," he said, stopping less than a meter from her. "T'Pol didn't send you that message."

Understanding dawned, and she whispered, "You sent the message. To me. Only to me."

He laughed softly. "That's right, darlin'. Only you. I don't need those others."

He took another step closer, and she swallowed apprehensively. He put his hands on the bulkhead on either side of her, effectively trapping her. She couldn't tear her eyes away from his, and she could see the madness burning there.

"Malcolm will kill you when he finds out about this," she said defiantly.

To her surprise, Trip laughed. It wasn't a happy sound.

"No, he won't," he said. "Malcolm should be just about taken care of by now. He won't be between us any more."

A sense of dread filled Hoshi. "What did you--"

Trip's mouth swooped down over hers, crushing her lips brutally. She struggled, but his hands grasped her wrists tightly. His body was against her, holding her in place against the bulkhead. As he tried to force her mouth open with his, she bit down hard on his lower lip.

Trip grunted and jerked back. It was all the opportunity Hoshi needed. She violently rammed her knee into his groin.

As he fell away from her, she bolted for the door. She had to find Malcolm before whatever it was Trip had done killed him.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

Hoshi ran through the mess hall to the comm panel by the door. Keying a button, she paged Malcolm.

Looking back at the captain's mess, she saw Trip standing in the doorway. He was hunched over slightly and panting, but he made no move to come after her.

She hoped he was in pain, but she had no delusions. It wasn't her self-defense skills that stopped him from approaching her -- it was the presence of several crewmen at one of the tables in the mess hall.

When Malcolm didn't respond to her repeated calls, she dashed for the mess hall's exit and ran smack into Travis' chest as the door opened.

"Whoa, Hoshi!" he said, grabbing her by the shoulders to steady her. "Where's the fire?"

"Travis!" she cried, never more glad to see her friend than at this moment. "I think Malcolm's in danger. We've got to help him!"

"What?" he asked incredulously as he let go of her arms.

"Come on, Travis," she said, looking over her shoulder at Trip. "There's no time to lose."

Following her gaze, he asked, "Shouldn't we tell Commander Tucker?"

"No. He's the last one to tell," she said vehemently, bouncing on the balls of her feet and tugging at Travis' arm. "Come on."

Hoshi took off at a run down the corridor, Travis right behind going as fast as his bad leg would allow. He caught up to her as she began climbing a ladder.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"My quarters on C deck," she said. "Malcolm was supposed to be there looking over the information from the Blaniats."

"Why do you think he's in trouble?"

"It's too complicated to explain right now," she said. "Please, just trust me on this, Travis."

Grunting at the strain on his bad leg, he said, "OK, but I want to know everything when this is over."

She agreed breathlessly, panic urging her to quicken her pace. She could easily outdistance Travis with his bad leg.

"I'm going on ahead," she told him. "Catch up as quickly as you can."

She didn't look back as she reached the top of the ladder and sprinted down the hall to the next ladder she had to climb. She was breathing hard now, more from fear of what might be happening to Malcolm than from her own exertion. She prayed she wasn't too late.

Dashing up the ladder, she found the corridor deserted when she reached the top. She ran down the corridor, turning at the corner. There was her door, not ten meters ahead. In her haste, she stumbled, and only her outthrust arm grazing a bulkhead kept her from falling to the deck.

The fear she would find Malcolm dead when she opened the door increased as chill fingers of dread ran up her spine when the door refused to open to her access code. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead as she tried to still the trembling in her hand and re-enter the code. She finished inputting the code a second time, and again the door would not open.

She screamed out her frustration, knowing now for sure that something was wrong, and banged on the door with her fist.

"Hoshi!" Travis called as he limped down the corridor toward her. "What's wrong?"

"I can't get in!" she cried, hysteria threatening to overwhelm her as she continued to pound on the door. "My code isn't working!"

Hoshi was barely aware of Travis hurrying toward her. Malcolm could be dying as she stood helplessly outside their cabin. Tears began to stream down her face, and she dashed them away with one hand as she continued to strike uselessly at the door with the other.

Reaching her side, Travis said, "Stand back," and pushed her to the side.

He ripped the cover plate off the control panel and stuck his hand inside. Grasping several wires, he yanked hard, pulling them loose. There was an audible click as the locking mechanism disengaged.

With a hopeful cry, Hoshi flung herself at the door, pushing and clawing, trying to open it. Travis added his strength to the attempt and the door moved a fraction, giving way with a loud pop.

Hoshi could hear the sound of air rushing past her into the room through the tiny slit of an opening and, putting her hand up to the crack, she could feel a current of air moving forcefully past.

"Oh my God!" she said. "There's no air in the cabin!"

Travis gave the door another yank and it flew open so easily that it bounced in its track. Once the air pressure had equalized, the resistance had evaporated.

"Malcolm!" Hoshi called out fearfully as she stepped through the doorway. She didn't see him, and for a brief moment she thought perhaps he hadn't been in their cabin.

But then she saw a booted foot sticking out from beyond the desk, and she rushed over, falling to her knees beside Malcolm. He was stretched out on his stomach, one arm on the floor above his head as if he had been trying to reach for something.

"Malcolm," she sobbed as she placed her fingers on his neck trying to find a pulse.

"Is he...?" Travis asked.

"I don't know!" she cried. "I can't find a pulse."

Travis dropped down to the floor on the other side of Malcolm, rolled him onto his back, and picked up one of his hands. He felt for a pulse at the wrist. After a moment he said, "I think his heart is beating, but it's not very strong."

Travis got back to his feet and leaned over the desk to use its comm panel to contact sickbay and request medical assistance.

"He's breathing!" Hoshi said, hope in her shaking voice. As Travis moved back to her, she added with a tremulous smile, "The blue around his lips is going away!"

Squatting down next to them, Travis said, "If he's breathing, he'll probably be OK. But, Hoshi, what happened to the air in here? How did you know something was wrong?"

Hoshi was grasping Malcolm's hand as if it were a lifeline. She shuddered once before speaking. "I don't know what happened to the air, but I knew Malcolm was in danger." Looking Travis straight in the eye, she said evenly, "This is the second time, maybe the third, that Trip has tried to kill Malcolm. Trip said something to me right before you came to the mess hall that made me realize Malcolm was in danger."

It was to Travis' credit that he didn't try to defend the chief engineer immediately. He and Hoshi had both seen a number of other crew members act irrationally in the last two years. What swayed Travis to believe Hoshi's accusation rather than think she was ready to join the ranks of those below decks was unconscious on the deck between them. Hoshi's quick action had saved Malcolm's life.

Travis blew out a breath, about to ask for more details, when Liz Cutler and a med tech rushed through the open door. Travis got out of the way, giving them room to work. He listened as Liz asked questions about Malcolm's condition, and Hoshi answered, her voice unsteady again.

When Sub-commander T'Pol appeared in the doorway, Travis motioned her to remain in the corridor. He joined her in the hall and told her in a low voice what had happened.

Well aware of her Vulcan control, he was nevertheless surprised by her lack of reaction to the news that Trip had possibly tried to commit murder several times. He, too, was aware of T'Pol's relationship with the engineer. If anything, that ought to make her react somehow, Travis thought, but all he saw was her usual steely demeanor.

"Come with me, Ensign," she said. Noticing his anxious glance back at Hoshi and Malcolm's cabin, she added, "This will only take a few moments."

T'Pol led him around the bend in the corridor to one of the maintenance access panels. She removed it and stepped in, Travis following her. They worked their way along the narrow accessway until they came to the ventilation cut-offs. T'Pol methodically counted the number of switches until she came to the one for Hoshi and Malcolm's cabin -- it was in the vent position, its safety override disengaged.

"Someone did that on purpose," Travis said, his jaw tightening.

"And the speed of the venting has been tampered with as well," T'Pol noted, checking a gauge. "It has been set at a low speed."

Looking at T'Pol, Travis added, "Slow enough that a person in the room being vented might not notice until it's too late."

Straightening as much as possible in the confines of the maintenance accessway, T'Pol said, "There is no doubt. This was a deliberate attempt on Lieutenant Reed's life. Someone tried to asphyxiate him."

Travis held his tongue as T'Pol reset the switches to the correct position before they left the accessway. They both needed to hear what Hoshi had to say before action -- if any -- could be taken.


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

Malcolm was conscious by the time Travis and T'Pol returned to the cabin. He had been moved to the bunk, and Hoshi was seated next to him, gently stroking his forehead.

Liz Cutler said there was no reason to move Malcolm to sickbay. She gave him an analgesic for the headache he had, and told him to call her if it became any worse.

Hoshi could tell Liz would have liked an explanation for Malcolm's condition, but T'Pol dismissed her and the med tech, saying that Liz would be informed of the circumstances later.

"Close the door as you leave, Crewman," T'Pol ordered her.

As the door shut, Malcolm struggled to a sitting position, a grimace on his pale features at the pain in his head.

"Are you sure that's wise, Lieutenant?" T'Pol asked.

"No," he said.

Hoshi gave him an affectionate look as she propped him up with pillows. Taking her hand in his, Malcolm squeezed it.

"I owe my life to you," he said. "I never would have expected Trip to try a stunt like that."

T'Pol cleared her throat. "We have yet to determine whether the commander is responsible."

"Oh, come on, Sub-commander!" Hoshi burst out, standing up to face her superior officer. "Who else could have set this up? Trip cornered me in the captain's mess and all but admitted that he had done something that would kill Malcolm."

"There are any number of crewmembers who have the expertise necessary to 'set this up,'" the Vulcan countered icily. "As far as Commander Tucker telling you he was in the process of killing Lieutenant Reed...perhaps you are becoming delusional. The madness could be beginning to affect you."

Hoshi looked in disbelief at T'Pol.

"You think I'm going crazy?" Hoshi asked incredulously. "Trip's tried to kill Malcolm two -- maybe three -- times!"

"Three times?" Malcolm asked before T'Pol could say anything.

Hoshi turned toward him. "The first time was when the captain attacked us at Trip's instigation on our last scavenging mission," she said, causing T'Pol's eyebrow to rise. "And there's this time, of course." She hesitated, knowing her suspicion couldn't be proved. "And...this morning in the mess hall."

"In the mess hall?" Malcolm repeated. "Trip sat with us at our table. How was that an attempt on my life?"

"I think he put something in your coffee but I wasn't certain. I didn't want to take the chance."

"That's why you knocked the cup out of my hand!"

"The incident with the coffee is supposition," T'Pol stated. "However, I would like to hear more about the attack by Captain Archer."

Malcolm tried to settle more comfortably against the pillows as Hoshi sat down next to him again and related the events surrounding the confrontation, including the captain's claim that Trip would re-install him as captain.

"The attack took place," Malcolm confirmed when Hoshi finished her tale. "The captain knocked me out. When I came to, I could hear Hoshi and Trip talking out in the corridor, but I couldn't hear what they were saying until I got the armory door open. When I did, I saw them, and I also saw the captain unconscious on the deck."

T'Pol considered for a few moments. Travis remained out of the way of the sub-commander's pacing, his eyes following her back and forth.

"There was no reason for the commander to be down there," T'Pol finally said. "Why didn't you report this incident?"

The question was directed at Hoshi, who shook her head. "Malcolm hadn't seen most of it, and he hadn't heard what the captain told me about Trip making a deal with him or what Trip said after he stunned the captain. It would have been my word against Trip's."

"There's something else we need to think about," Travis said, breaking his self-imposed silence. "Even if the commander has got whatever it is that's making people crazy, can we afford to force him to go down below? Don't we need him to work on the engines, especially now that the Blaniats may be helping us to get out of here?"

Malcolm nodded in agreement, then winced at the pain the movement of his head caused. "That was my reasoning for not telling you, Sub-commander," he said. "Trip may well be our ticket out of here."

"I must agree with you on that point, Lieutenant," T'Pol said. "The Blaniats will be contacting us in a few hours. Until then, no action will be taken against Commander Tucker."

Hoshi tried to protest but T'Pol raised her voice. "In the interim, at no time is Lieutenant Reed to be by himself. I do not wish to provide another opportunity for the commander...or anyone else...to attack him again."

T'Pol strode to the cabin door but stopped before opening it.

"Our top priority at this moment is the contact with the Blaniats," she said. "They may hold the key to our safe departure from this area of space. Once outside it, we will be able to contact Earth and Vulcan, and arrange for proper care for our fellow crewmen who have been afflicted by the insanity."

As she opened the door, Travis spoke up. "You said for the lieutenant not to be alone at any time, but I get the impression you don't want us to tell anyone else about Commander Tucker."

T'Pol favored him with a look that, had it been a phase pistol blast, would have bored a hole through him. "That is correct, Ensign," she said. "The fewer people who know about this, the less difficult it will be for them to work with the commander."

"But--"

"Either you or Ensign Sato will have to be with Lieutenant Reed at all times." She paused and looked pointedly at Hoshi. "Considering your living arrangements, that shouldn't be a hardship."

Hoshi's jaw dropped as T'Pol left the cabin. Next to her, Malcolm began to laugh, then moaned as the laughter made his head hurt.

"I'm not sure, but I think she's developing a sense of humor," Travis remarked. "Did she really say that?"

"Yes, she did," Hoshi said indignantly. "She's one to talk. She and Trip have been shacked up for almost a year--"

She was drowned out by both men's laughter. She flopped down on the bunk next to Malcolm. When their laughter died, she asked, "Are you two finished? This isn't funny, you know."

"It's just that you sounded so...so..." Travis tried to come up with the right word but couldn't.

"Self-righteous?" Malcolm suggested, and Hoshi smacked his arm.

"She's trying to protect Trip," Hoshi said. "It makes me angry that she didn't believe me. I'm still not sure she does."

"She's a Vulcan," Travis said. "She can't help it."

Hoshi got up and began to pace as the two men traded glances. "What if the madness is affecting her?" she asked.

"Who can tell?" Travis asked. "Unless she does something violent, or illogical, we won't know."

"Maybe it affects Vulcans differently," Hoshi persisted.

"Give it a rest, Hoshi," Malcolm said, patting the space on the bed next to him. "So far, T'Pol's behaved as she normally would."

Grumbling, Hoshi came to sit next to him. "I still don't trust her," she muttered.

"You distrust anybody you want," Malcolm said with a smirk. "Your distrust of Trip saved my life."

As she smiled and snuggled up next to him, Travis cleared his throat. "It's about suppertime," he said. "Why don't I go down to the mess hall and get some food to bring back for you two?"

"Thanks, Travis," Malcolm said. "I really don't feel up to climbing a couple of decks' worth of ladders right now."

Travis gave them a mock salute and left.

Malcolm carefully put his arm around Hoshi's shoulders as they sat side by side on the bed. He watched her face as she stared straight ahead at nothing. After a while he asked, "What are you thinking?"

She looked at him and gave him a sad smile. "I could have lost you."

"But you didn't," he said, his arm tightening around her. "You were my guardian angel, looking out for me."

Hoshi slid her arm around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. "How could I have been so stupid, though? I was worried about you, but I didn't even think Trip might try something with me."

"He tried something?" Malcolm asked suspiciously. "What did he do? Why didn't you tell me?"

"You've got enough to worry about. He tried to kill you. All he did was try to have his way with me," she said, deciding not to go into details which might set Malcolm off on one of his rages. She wasn't up to it tonight. She was tired and they still had the Blaniats to deal with. "Let's just say that he made a pass of sorts and was rebuked -- violently," she said, unable to keep a note of satisfaction out of her voice.

Malcolm chuckled. "Did I say you were an angel? Let me amend that. You're an avenging angel."

Avenging angel. Hoshi liked the sound of that.

She was rapidly approaching the point where, T'Pol's orders or not, she was going to have to do something about Trip. This last attempt on Malcolm's life had been too close. If she hadn't figured out what was going on, Malcolm could be lying in sickbay covered head to toe with a sheet instead of sitting here next to her.

Perhaps, instead of waiting to react to whatever Trip tried next, it was time to take the offensive.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: I'm posting so quickly because I want to get this puppy complete before Christmas. In case you're wondering, there are 17 chapters to this story.

CHAPTER 14

Hoshi and Travis helped Malcolm to the bridge for the next contact by the Blaniats. He was still a little woozy from his near suffocation, but the sandwiches Travis had brought from the mess hall had helped restore his strength.

They hadn't talked much on the way to the bridge. All of them felt a certain amount of excitement, but they were cautiously optimistic. The first information from the Blaniats had explained only how they had come to be here, not how they were going to get out.

Malcolm voiced the opinion that maybe the Blaniats were coming back to finish them off.

"I hope it's not that," Hoshi said. "After all this time, I don't think I could stand it."

Travis muttered a muted "amen" under his breath as he climbed the ladder behind Malcolm.

T'Pol and Trip were on the bridge when they arrived. T'Pol was seated at her science station, adjusting the equipment on the chance that, when the interference cleared up for the Blaniat transmission, some scanner readings might be possible. Trip was by her side, eyeing the trio as they went to their posts.

Seeing Trip standing there looking smug and innocent affronted Hoshi's sense of justice. At the moment, she wished for nothing more than to be the avenging angel Malcolm had spoken of.

And yet she didn't hate Trip. He'd been a trusted friend for years. This area of space had made him do crazy things. She knew he was being influenced by the madness. He wasn't responsible for what he'd tried to do, no more than the crew members down below were responsible for what they had done when they'd been overtaken by the insanity.

That didn't mean she was going to stand by and let Trip kill Malcolm. She wasn't quite sure yet how she was going to stop him. She'd devote her full attention to that problem after they got this business with the Blaniats out of the way.

She gave the engineer a harsh glare as she walked by on her way to the communications console. He smiled at her until he noticed Malcolm's jealous gaze. Trip's smile faded, and he turned and went to the engineering station where he fiddled with some controls.

Certain functions had been routed back to the bridge again in preparation for the Blaniats' arrival. The propulsion command system had been hooked back up to the helm, and the controls for the phase cannons and torpedos had been reconnected to Malcolm's bridge console.

The most bizarre thing was that, even though the bridge was manned for the first time in what seemed like ages, the viewscreen wasn't on. If T'Pol's scans worked, however, Hoshi would be expecting the order to bring the viewscreen to life.

Hoshi took a moment to look at the two men who had accompanied her to the bridge. Travis was running a series of test commands at the helm. He looked hopeful, but Hoshi doubted he'd get to do any flying just yet.

Malcolm, on the other hand, was grim as he worked some controls at the tactical console. He was anticipating the worst. Hoshi didn't blame him, but she hoped it wouldn't come down to a fight. They weren't even sure the weapons would work.

A weapon...that's what she needed to deal with Trip.

Hoshi shook her head. Her attention was wandering, and that wouldn't be prudent right now. She needed to be focused on what was happening. She ran a routine check on the communications console and was pleased when all indicators showed "green."

"How much longer?" T'Pol asked.

Checking the chronometer on her console, Hoshi replied, "Eleven minutes until the next scheduled contact."

With the routine check accomplished, Hoshi had nothing to do but wait. Her mind drifted again, and she found herself gazing at the back of T'Pol's head. She supposed if she were in the Vulcan's place, she would have reacted the same way to the news that her lover was a potential murderer. Unless she had proof positive, she wouldn't be able to believe Malcolm was a murderer, for example.

Her gaze slid over to Trip at the engineering station. As if he was aware of her appraisal, he glanced up from what he was doing. His eyes flicked over to Malcolm, then back to her, and he gave her a supremely confident smile.

She gave Trip a sneer and was gratified to see he was startled by it. That's it, she thought. Let him wonder what she was up to.

Softening her expression to a smile, she switched her gaze to Malcolm. He was so cute when he was preoccupied with his work, head bent over the console, one stray strand of dark hair falling forward.

She didn't want to alarm him, so she wouldn't ask him what he thought would be the best method of disposing of Trip. She'd make her plans without his assistance.

Fortunately, Malcolm kept a spare phase pistol in a case under their bunk. She'd wait until he was asleep tonight before she took it and became his avenging angel.

As the minutes slowly ticked by as they waited for the Blaniats, Hoshi ran through various scenarios. If the Blaniats provided them with information about how to get out of this area of space, Trip would probably have to modify the warp engine in some manner. In that case, she could sneak up on him when he was working late in engineering or, better yet, in some isolated accessway.

Or, she could wait in ambush for him. With a third of the crew below-decks, there were fewer people out and around at any given time. Often the ship's corridors were deserted.

Maybe she should lead him on, let him believe she had changed her mind and was interested in a relationship with him. She could send him a message like the one he had sent her. For some reason, the deceit involved in this method appealed to her. Perhaps it was because he had used a similar deception to lure her to the captain's mess. But where his attempt had failed, hers wouldn't.

"Ensign!"

T'Pol's voice yanked Hoshi's meandering thoughts away from her plotting.

"I'm sorry, Sub-commander," Hoshi said with a serene smile. "I was thinking about something else."

"I asked how much longer until the Blaniats are to contact us."

"Two minutes," Hoshi said.

"Very well," T'Pol said. "Everyone, remain alert. Keep focused on your duties."

Two minutes to the nano-second later, the communications panel beeped with an incoming message.

"Interference has dissipated and the Blaniats are hailing us," Hoshi reported.

"Put it on speakers," T'Pol ordered.

"Enterprise," came the same voice as before. "We are sending more information. We will contact you again in 12 hours."

The channel was cut on the Blaniats' end, and Trip asked in disbelief, "That's it?"

"We are receiving another data burst," Hoshi said as she watched the indicators on her console.

T'Pol, who had stood during the brief audio transmission, strode over next to Hoshi's station. She, too, watched as the information entered the system.

"Perhaps this information has to do with the method they use for propulsion," T'Pol said thoughtfully. "This data burst is much larger than the first one."

Looking up at the Vulcan, Hoshi said, "They're still three days from our position. Do you think they're going to feed us information in bits and pieces the entire time?"

T'Pol exhaled loudly. "It is possible, especially if transmitting is an energy-draining procedure and they must recharge their energy source periodically."

"You know," Trip stated from across the bridge, "that might be the answer. They could be runnin' on battery power of some sort."

Malcolm looked up as the conversation nudged a memory of something he had read. "It could be comparable to the submarines of World War II, before the advent of nuclear power," he said. "They ran on batteries when submerged, and recharged the batteries by surfacing and running on diesel engines."

"A likely comparison, if they do indeed run on some type of stored power," T'Pol commented. "However, I do not see how they could 'surface' in this area of space."

Malcolm shrugged.

"Data burst transmission complete," Hoshi said.

This time, Hoshi was ready. When the indicator light on her console dimmed to signal the end of the transmission, she already had her earpiece out and had cut the speakers. A glance at another gauge on the console showed the interference had returned in force.

"Where would you like me to send this for you to look at, Sub-commander?" she asked.

"The ready room," T'Pol replied, walking in that direction. "Make copies available to each of the other senior staff members right away. I do not believe there is any reason for them to wait to see it."

A stifled exclamation of excitement came from the direction of the engineering console, and all heads turned toward Trip.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "It's just how they get their ship to move has been drivin' me nuts."

There was a long pause as everyone looked at him, and he shifted uncomfortably under their combined scrutiny. "Well, aren't ya at all curious how they do it?"

"I'm sure we all are," T'Pol put in. "However, your choice of words to describe your curiosity was perhaps not the most appropriate."

You're wrong, Sub-commander, Hoshi thought to herself. Trip is nuts, and I'm going to do something about it.

As T'Pol ducked into the ready room, Hoshi began downloading copies to the consoles on the bridge. If any of her fellow officers wanted to read it elsewhere, they could take care of that themselves.

Once that task was accomplished, she settled in for what looked like a longer read than the first transmission from the Blaniats. Then, if there was time, she had another matter to attend to.


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

Hoshi was unable to do anything about Trip that night.

For one thing, the amount of information in the data burst from the Blaniats ensured that everyone who read all of it was up until the wee hours of the morning. As they had surmised, it covered modifications to the warp engine to make Enterprise mobile again.

Hoshi didn't understand most of it, and she wasn't sure Trip would be able to understand much of it, either. Some of the terminology, despite being in English, defied description.

Then, when she retired for what was left of the night, Malcolm had come to bed shortly thereafter. He fell into a fitful sleep, his arm draped loosely around her waist. Every time she had tried to slip out of bed, he had either woken or tightened his grip on her. She finally gave up on carrying out her plan that night, deciding it would better to get some rest before morning came.

As it was, they both almost overslept. They skipped breakfast to make it to the staff meeting on time.

One good thing about having these meetings in the captain's mess, Hoshi thought as they walked into the room, was its proximity to the galley. A thermos of steaming hot coffee and several mugs were on the table, and she gratefully poured herself a cup. Seeing that Crewman Cunningham had been the one to bring out the thermos, she wasn't concerned that any foreign substance might be in the coffee.

The meeting started once T'Pol, Trip and Travis arrived. Hoshi was prepared for a long, boring session going over the Blaniat technical information, and she was surprised when T'Pol brought up the latest readings from the measuring device installed in the ready room.

"The Rendarat has picked up speed," T'Pol stated. "Its estimated time of arrival has been revised to just under two days."

"Why the change in their speed?" Malcolm asked.

"Unknown," T'Pol replied. "We have had no further communication with the Blaniats since last evening. If they keep the channel clear long enough during our next contact, I will ask them."

"Maybe they've made improvements to their propulsion system," Trip mused. "The impression I got from the data they sent was that it was experimental. They might still be fine-tunin' it."

"That is a possibility," T'Pol said. "Which brings us to the next topic of discussion..."

As T'Pol droned on about the technical specs for modifying the engine, Hoshi's attention wandered. She glanced at the chronometer by the door. It was almost time for the next contact with the Blaniats.

The discussion began to bog down over details, and Hoshi cleared her throat to get the others' attention.

"We should be getting to the bridge, don't you think?" she said, nodding toward the chronometer.

"Thank you, Ensign," T'Pol said.

As the meeting broke up and everyone headed for the door, Hoshi hung back.

"It's unusual for T'Pol to not be aware of the time," she said quietly as Malcolm came over to her and they fell in at the rear of the group.

"The strain is getting to her, too," Malcolm said as they walked out into the corridor.

Hoshi raised her eyebrows. "Are you sure that's all it is?" she asked.

Malcolm gave her a sharp glance and took hold of her elbow to stop her from following the others. He waited until the others were out of sight up the first ladder.

"That's not something to speculate about in front of anyone else," he told her, his grey eyes boring into hers. "Not when we are close to finally getting out of this God-forsaken place. Unless we are absolutely certain there's something wrong with her, keep your suspicions to yourself."

Exasperated, Hoshi opened her mouth to reply, but he cut her off.

"Think about it, Hoshi," he said quietly. "If T'Pol goes off the deep end, who does that leave in charge?"

Hoshi's face paled and her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh my God, Malcolm!" she whispered. "I hadn't thought of that."

He gestured for her to start up the ladder before him. As she climbed, Hoshi thought about what Malcolm had implied. If T'Pol's sanity was slipping, she needed to do something about Trip as soon as possible.

Hoshi was still thinking about the ramifications of Trip being in charge when they reached the bridge. Sitting down at her console, she resolved to act that evening. Then she had to put all extraneous thoughts aside as she concentrated on the task at hand.

The Blaniats were nothing if not punctual. Twelve hours on the dot from their last contact, her console chimed to announce an incoming message. Hoshi was ready and opened the channel at T'Pol's nod.

The same Blaniat who had talked to them before got right to the point. They would be able to assist Enterprise personnel with any modifications they couldn't do on their own. He also announced their arrival had been moved up, and they expected to rendezvous in eighteen hours.

"We have questions before you break contact," T'Pol said hastily.

"Please ask in a concise manner," the Blaniat told her.

"Why has your time of arrival changed?"

"Modifications to our ship have enabled us to travel faster."

"Why do you break contact so abruptly?"

"The energy needed to break through the interference to communicate is excessive."

T'Pol opened her mouth to ask another question but the static of a closed channel came from the speakers. Hoshi hurriedly cut the connection on her end before the usual feedback took over.

"No data burst this time," Hoshi noted.

"Apparently they have given us all the information they deem necessary at this time," T'Pol said.

"Well," drawled Trip, "seems we were right on a couple of points about them, at least."

T'Pol nodded. "However," she noted, "there was one glaring omission."

As the bridge crew pondered her remark, Malcolm spoke up. "They didn't specify a time for another contact."

"Maybe that means they aren't going to talk to us again until they rendezvous," Travis said.

"That is my conclusion as well," T'Pol said. "I suggest everyone make whatever preparations are necessary for the Blaniats' arrival, then get adequate rest and be ready by 0200 tomorrow. If they maintain their present speed, they should rendezvous with us at 0230."

Murmured acknowledgements came from the officers. Hoshi doubted she'd be getting much rest, however. She had another agenda for the evening.

The day dragged by slowly. Hoshi didn't have much to do, but Malcolm was tied up making security preparations. She followed him around, making sure he was never alone.

At last they went to dinner, making it to the mess hall before Chef began putting up the food. They ate with Travis, who had spent most of the day in engineering. He'd had nothing to do on the bridge that day, but as helmsman he did have an interest in seeing how the modifications would affect the ship's mobility.

Trip was nowhere to be seen at dinner, and Hoshi gathered from the others' conversation that the engineering crew was trying to get as much done as possible before the Blaniats arrived.

"They've been able to make out some of that gobbledegook the Blaniats sent?" Hoshi asked.

"Some," Travis said before shoveling a forkful of pasta into his mouth.

"I expect they'll be busy working on the engine modifications until the Blaniats get here," she said, trying to sound casual. "Trip probably won't get any rest at all tonight."

Travis swallowed and chuckled. "You know Commander Tucker. The more he gets done, the less someone else will be able to mess with his precious engine." Lowering his voice, he added knowingly, "And it's just as well he keeps busy. Gives him less time to think up more mischief."

Hoshi caught Malcolm looking at her and she gave him a quick smile. Pushing back from the table, she affected a yawn. "Well, I'm going to take T'Pol's advice and get some rest. Are you coming, Malcolm?"

He nodded and got up from the table. After exchanging "good nights" with Travis and taking their dishes to the galley, they headed for their quarters.

Hoshi was glad to see Malcolm yawn when they entered the cabin. He was tired, and after she initiated a strenuous round of love-making, he dropped off to sleep easily. She was ashamed to use sex for such a purpose, but it was for his own good, she reasoned.

She waited until Malcolm's breathing evened out and deepened before she slipped out of bed. Gathering up some off-duty clothing, she padded quietly to the bathroom to change.

Trip ought to be in his office in engineering running calculations and simulations. She was hoping he would still be hard at it despite the lateness of the hour. If not, she would have to visit his quarters, and she really didn't want to do that.

She finished dressing and opened the bathroom door. She looked over at Malcolm. He was still worn out from his near-fatal suffocation the day before. Thinking about his close brush with death dissolved the few misgivings she had about what she was about to do.

Moving silently, she approached the bed and knelt down. She felt around underneath for the metal case. Her fingers brushed against the handle, causing it to clink against the case, and she froze until she was sure Malcolm hadn't woken.

Slowly letting out the breath she had been holding, she grasped the handle and pulled the case out from under the bunk. She carefully undid the latches and eased the lid open.

There it was -- the one phase pistol not kept with the others. As head of security, Malcolm had the right to keep it in his quarters. She knew she didn't have to worry about the power cell working -- Malcolm checked it every night before climbing into bed.

She tucked the pistol in a pocket in her loose-fitting pants. Closing the lid of the case, she slid it back under the bed.

Malcolm murmured something in his sleep and rolled over. Hoshi held her breath until she was sure he hadn't woken, then stealthily got to her feet and backed away from the bed.

At the door to the cabin she paused to look back at him. He looked so peaceful lying there.

If what she planned worked, he would be with her for a long time to come. He'd understand why she'd had to do it. It was for his own safety. She loved him so much she couldn't allow anything to threaten him. What could be more important than that?

Confident in her purpose, she left to search out her quarry.


	16. Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

No one was in the corridors. It was late, and most of the crew were in their quarters sleeping or passing the time quietly until the Blaniats arrived.

Hoshi made one stop on her way to engineering and, once outside the door to the department, she paused to adjust her clothing. She undid the top button of her already low-cut red blouse and pulled the fabric back slightly to enhance the view of her cleavage. Taking a deep breath, she ran her hands over her hips, sliding them over the silky material.

She was surprised to find she wasn't nervous. Rather, she was experiencing a state of near-euphoria. It must be an indication that she was doing the right thing, she thought with no small amount of satisfaction.

In a way, she'd regret not having Trip around -- as a friend, of course. But his friendship had been outweighed by his blatant interest in her. She had Malcolm and didn't need Trip that way. She could have lived with the aggravation of Trip's pestering her but for one thing -- he kept trying to kill Malcolm so that he could have her.

There should have been remorse for what she was about to do, but she felt nothing of the sort. Her solution would kill two birds with one stone, so to speak, taking care of both her problem with Trip as well as the threat to Malcolm.

No longer would she have to worry about Malcolm's safety. No longer would she have to constantly look over her shoulder to see if Trip was up to something. No longer would she be distracted from taking care of Malcolm.

With the Blaniats' help, Enterprise would soon be out of this area of space and they'd be going home. She was lucky things had worked out this way.

To put it simply, they didn't need Trip any more.

She opened the door to engineering and was greeted by an eerie quiet. She looked around. There was no one to be seen.

Taking a few steps into engineering, she looked behind the warp engine. No one there either, but from her vantage point she could see a light shining from Trip's office. As she stood there contemplating her next move, she heard a muffled curse and the sound of a desk drawer being slammed.

A satisfied sneer crossed her face. She had him cornered. There was nowhere for him to run. Her plan called for luring him out of his office but if she had to, she could shoot him there. The only problem would be that she'd have to move his body afterward.

But she could do it. She could do anything necessary to keep Malcolm safe.

Slowly, seductively, she walked to the office door. Trip was seated in his chair, his elbows on the desk and his head in his hands, mumbling something about differentials and mechanical power boosters.

Delicately, like the music of hanging chimes being swayed by the gentlest of breezes, she cleared her throat.

Trip's head shot up. He took in her seductive pose in the doorway, and a smile slowly lit his face.

"Finally got tired of him, did ya?" he asked as his gaze swept appreciatively over her.

Hoshi didn't answer. If he came to certain conclusions on his own and she didn't have to tell a lie out loud, all the better. Lying was wrong, and she didn't like to lie.

She gazed back, letting her eyes rake him in return. One hand she kept hidden in the folds of her loose trousers, her fingers caressing the phase pistol tucked in a bulky pocket. Her other hand played with the neckline of her blouse.

Trip stood up and came around the desk toward her. "You couldn't have picked a better time, darlin'," he said, his voice husky. "I could use some distraction right now."

Hoshi let a small smile curve one corner of her mouth. "Is that all I am? A distraction?" she asked coyly.

"You're more than a distraction," he said, reaching out to take her in his arms. "More like a total obsession."

She felt his hands roam across her back, and she stilled the impulse to shudder. She had to play this through. She forced herself to rest her head against his chest, and she could hear his heart pounding.

When he raised her chin with his fingers so that he could look down into her eyes, it took all her willpower not to spit in his face. This was the man who had tried to take Malcolm away from her. For Malcolm's sake, she had to do this.

His lips came down and crushed hers in a breath-stealing kiss. His arms tightened around her, and she felt one hand slide down toward her buttocks, pulling her closer.

With a gasp, she broke away, careful to keep the revulsion she felt from her face. Trip's suspicious expression gave way to understanding when she whispered, "Not here."

"Where did you have in mind?" he asked, smiling at her lasciviously.

Hoshi made a show of pretending to think about his question. "Not my cabin," she said after a moment. "Malcolm's there asleep."

She looked at him, her eyebrows raised.

"My cabin's out, too," he said in response to her unvoiced question. "T'Pol could come by at any time."

"I know the perfect place," she said as if she had suddenly thought of something. Taking his hand, she led him out of the office, careful to keep him on the opposite side of the pocket where she had hidden the pistol so he wouldn't bump up against it and want to know what it was. She didn't really expect to have to use it, but having it handy was good, just in case.

Trip went with her willingly. At the door to engineering, she stopped to give him a smouldering kiss full of promise. As she broke the kiss, she sighed heavily with apparent restrained passion, and turned to lead him out the doorway.

Every so often as they walked down the corridor, she would stop to run her hand over his arm or chest, her tongue darting suggestively over her lips. Soon Trip was stopping her, more interested in the touching and petting during the intervals than in getting to their destination.

As his eyes lost their focus and filled with desire, she knew her plan was working. Once again she broke away from him and led him a few more steps, turning a corner. Her goal was just a little farther along.

When he stopped her the next time, she was right where she wanted to be. His hands began their insistent roaming of her upper body and she leaned back so that she was braced by the bulkhead.

When he came up for air after a kiss, she gave him a smile.

"I have a surprise for you," she said softly.

"You're full of surprises tonight," he said, leaning down to kiss her again.

She gently pushed his hands away and gave him a coquettish smile. "I'm sorry it came to this, Trip, but you really gave me no choice."

A frown marred Trip's features. "What are you talkin' about, Hoshi?" he asked curiously.

"This," she said, and pushed against him with all her strength, causing him to stumble backward several steps.

Right into the open airlock behind him.

Before he could recover, she slapped her palm against the control to close the door, and it slid shut with a hiss. She made sure she hit the override to prevent him from opening the airlock from his side.

Trip rushed up to the door, pounding on it. She could see his mouth moving, but she couldn't hear what he was shouting. Earlier, when she'd stopped by on her way to engineering, she'd opened the door to the airlock and had also taken the precaution of fixing the intercom. He could hear her but she wouldn't have to listen to him.

"I'm sorry," she apologized again. "I'd rather not do this. But Malcolm means too much to me. You scared me that last time. I thought you'd killed him for sure. But it also gave me the idea for this."

She laughed at that, and her eyes were unnaturally bright as she studied the controls.

"Hmmmm. Someone else always did this whenever I used the airlock. And it's been so long since it was used that I hope it still works. Then again, you're an excellent engineer, so you've probably kept everything in top condition."

She flashed a smile at Trip, who was screaming soundlessly at her through the viewport, as she began pushing buttons on the control panel.

"I thought it would be fitting to asphyxiate you since that's what you tried to do to Malcolm," she said, her brow furrowing as she remembered the soul-wrenching despair when she had seen Malcolm lying on the floor in their cabin.

"I'm going to make the airlock decompress as slowly as possible," she explained as she pushed a button. Watching the indicators, she continued, "That way you'll know what Malcolm felt like. Not that he realized he was being suffocated, but he probably got a headache at the very least before things started getting blurry. Maybe he realized in the last moments before he lost consciousness that something was wrong. That's probably why he was on the floor the way he was, like he was trying to get to the door."

Her voice became harsh as she kept talking. "But I got there in time. I saved him. Enterprise needs Malcolm, more than it needs you. It's up to me to keep him safe because I love him."

She sighed and shifted her attention from the indicators to Trip. He was standing mere centimeters away, separated from her only by the door's glass panel, so close that she could see the terror in his eyes, but she was unmoved by it.

"Why did you have to try to spoil everything?" she asked crabbily as she tapped a finger impatiently on the indicator for the air level. "You're insane, just like the rest of them, you know. Otherwise you wouldn't have tried to kill one of your best friends. And if it weren't for the fact that T'Pol needed you, you'd be down below with the others right now. So I guess, in a way, since you're such a gifted engineer, not to mention a good Vulcan bed-warmer, it's your fault I have to kill you."

She watched in satisfied fascination as Trip's features ran through a range of emotions as she talked -- panic and fear, disbelief, outrage, and back to fear again.

"This is taking too long," she said, tapping her finger on the indicator again. "I'm going to speed this up."

As she fiddled with the controls, she added, "In case you're curious, after you're dead, I'm going to refill the airlock with air, open the outer door, and let you be sucked out into space. I'll make a notation in your log that you were going to check the airlock to make sure it was working properly before the Blaniats arrived."

Hoshi found the control to adjust the rate of the air being removed and changed the setting. She could hear the increase in air being sucked out of the small room. Trip began to gasp, his legs buckled, and he slid from view below the window.

Looking at the now empty window, she said, "Everyone will think it such a shame that the chief engineer died in an accident just hours before help arrived."


	17. Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

Hoshi was concentrating so intently on the sound of air being pumped out of the airlock that at first she blocked out the metallic clang of hatches being mated.

When the dying echo of the reverberation from the other side of the airlock finally registered with her, she quickly checked the settings. A moment ago, the gauges had showed the air in the small chamber was almost gone, but to her stunned amazement, one of the indicators showed fresh air was now being pumped in from the opposite side.

That could only mean one thing: Another ship had docked with Enterprise.

"No!" she cried, hitting the bulkhead next to the control panel with her fist.

This wasn't fair. She'd planned so carefully and worked so hard. Rapidly punching some of the buttons on the panel, she tried to override the commands coming from the other side, but the failsafes to prevent such an occurrence kept her from doing so and she didn't know the code to circumvent the failsafes.

When Malcolm and T'Pol rounded the bend in the corridor at a run, Hoshi was kicking the door to the airlock in outrage.

"Make them stop!" Hoshi yelled. "They're ruining everything."

T'Pol held up a scanner in one hand as she and Malcolm reached the airlock. "Someone's in there," she said.

"It's got to be Trip," Malcolm said, grabbing Hoshi from behind and pulling her away from the hatch.

"Let me go!" Hoshi screamed, fighting against his grasp on her upper arms. "I was almost done!"

As T'Pol worked the controls to pump air into the airlock, Hoshi continued to strain against Malcolm's restraining hold.

"You don't understand," Hoshi called to T'Pol. "I have to kill him! It's the only way I can save Malcolm. Malcolm's more important than anything. I have to keep him safe."

She turned a beseeching gaze over her shoulder to Malcolm.

"Please," she pleaded. "I have to do this for you. The next time, Trip might have killed you. Then what would I do?"

She suddenly quit struggling and started sobbing uncontrollably. Malcolm carefully turned her around until she was facing him. With an anguished cry, she collapsed against his chest, her hands clenching the material of his uniform as she sobbed.

Both the interior airlock door and the exterior one opened. T'Pol stepped in and knelt by the unconscious engineer who was crumpled like a rag doll on the floor. Checking her scanner, she announced, "He's alive."

A movement across the airlock drew T'Pol's attention. Two humanoids dressed in powder blue coveralls stood in the doorway, taking in the tableau before them with wide unblinking eyes. Only their pronounced jowls and double eye ridges differentiated them from humans.

T'Pol stood, inclined her head toward them, and said, "We are grateful for your intervention."

The two beings dipped their heads in return. The taller of the two spoke, his translated voice coming from a box-like device he held out before him. "The madness is much farther advanced than we anticipated. The inoculations must be made as soon as possible."

T'Pol took the metal case the second humanoid held out. Balancing it on one arm, she opened it and took out one of the numerous hyposprays it contained. She glanced at the humanoids and raised the hypo to her neck.

"Sub-commander!" Malcolm said. "Is that wise? We need to analyze--"

He bit off his warning as she injected herself. Still holding Hoshi in a protective embrace, Malcolm watched as T'Pol closed her eyes briefly, then opened them to gaze at him clearly and steadily.

"We do not have time, Lieutenant," she said in a voice stronger and much less stressed than it had been in recent weeks. "Besides, as acting captain of this vessel, I cannot allow any treatment to be tried on crewmembers which I am not willing to undergo myself." She inhaled deeply. "It appears to be working."

She squatted down, put the hypospray against Trip's neck, and pushed the button to activate the injection. Malcolm could hear the hiss from where he was standing.

Held securely in Malcolm's grip, Hoshi whimpered when T'Pol approached her.

"She's going to kill me," Hoshi said in horror, struggling again against Malcolm's encircling arms as she strained away from the Vulcan's outstretched hand holding the hypospray. "I tried to kill her lover, and now she's going to kill me. Please, Malcolm! Don't let her--"

The last few words came out in a scream as T'Pol depressed the hypospray against Hoshi's neck. Hoshi struggled for a few more seconds, then stilled, a look of confusion on her face. She stared at T'Pol before her gaze shifted to the open airlock door and Trip's unconscious form.

"Oh no!" Hoshi whispered in shock. She would have fallen if it hadn't been for Malcolm's hold on her. "I tried to kill Trip!"

"It's OK, Hoshi," Malcolm reassured her as T'Pol inoculated him. "We were able to stop you in time. Trip should be OK."

Hoshi tore her gaze away from Trip to watch Malcolm's face as the medication took effect on him. The permanent squint to the set of his eyes she had become used to seeing was eased, and she could almost feel his tension melt away where his hands touched her. There was still a wariness about him, but not the high-level paranoia that had been his constant companion for so long. What's more, she didn't see any jealousy or resentment when he looked at Trip.

In a small, bewildered voice, Hoshi asked, "Would someone please explain what's going on?"

"As you can see, Ensign," T'Pol said as she closed the lid on the case of hyposprays, "the Blaniats have arrived ahead of their revised estimate. When they docked, they registered a life form in the airlock and notified us. They also informed us of their cure for the affliction affecting the crew."

The clatter of footsteps came from around the bend in the corridor, and Liz Cutler followed by two med tech crewmen came into view. T'Pol handed Liz the case.

"Begin inoculations immediately," T'Pol ordered her. "Inform me as soon as all the crew above-decks have been treated."

Liz nodded as one of the medical crewmen moved to check Trip's condition. "What about the crew below-decks?" she asked.

"We will devise a method of distributing the inoculations to them," T'Pol said. "All able-bodied crewmen should be treated first."

Turning her attention to Malcolm as Trip was carried off on a stretcher, T'Pol said, "Lieutenant, show our visitors to the engine room and make sure the engineering staff gives them any necessary assistance in the modifications."

Malcolm released his hold on Hoshi and nodded, gesturing for the two aliens to follow him. As he started to move away, Hoshi reached out and tentatively touched his arm. Malcolm smiled down at her, the first true smile she had seen on his face in a long, long time.

"Everything will be OK now," he said.

Hoshi seriously doubted it. She'd gone mad like so many others had. And in her insanity, she had tried to kill another person.

"Sub-commander," she croaked out as the others left.

"Yes?" T'Pol asked.

"I should be charged with something...relieved of my duties...locked up somewhere at the very least," Hoshi said unsteadily.

"For what reason?"

Hoshi gaped at her in disbelief. "You have to ask? I tried to kill Trip! If the Blaniats hadn't shown up early, I would have succeeded."

T'Pol considered her for a few moments before speaking. "Ensign, you were not responsible for your actions," she said. "The madness affecting sentient beings in this area of space dictated your actions. And it was not through your actions alone that Commander Tucker's life was endangered."

"What do you mean?" Hoshi asked, puzzled.

T'Pol looked as if she had bitten into something distasteful. Speaking rapidly in a soft tone, she said, "My actions, or rather, my lack of action, also endangered Commander Tucker. If I had reacted to your accusations in a more logical manner instead of refusing to deal with the situation, perhaps this incident could have been avoided. In addition, we did not know you were being influenced by the madness, and so I did not take that into account." She drew a deep breath before continuing. "By the same token, my reasoning may have been affected by the madness as well."

Having bared her conscience, T'Pol turned on her heel and walked off down the hall, leaving a stunned but relieved Hoshi staring after her.

ONE MONTH LATER...

Malcolm and Hoshi were sharing breakfast in the mess hall, talking about Enterprise's imminent departure from the area of space that had had them trapped for so long. It had taken the Blaniats two months to reach them, but due to continued improvements to the engine modifications, it wasn't taking Enterprise as long to get back out.

Today they would emerge from this dangerous region of space, and Trip and his crew would be able to convert the warp engine back to the way it was supposed to be.

The Blaniats' medicine had also worked, and so both the ship and the crew were in full working order again.

Captain Archer, restored to his position of authority, had come to the conclusion there was no sense in seeking immediate punitive redress. The current Blaniat regime wasn't responsible for what had happened to Enterprise. He'd leave the matter in the hands of Starfleet and Earth diplomats. They could hash out what -- if anything -- should be done about the whole tragic affair.

All the crewmembers who had been below-decks had been treated and pronounced sane. In some cases, they had to be stunned in order to be treated, but as Malcolm had told Hoshi, "Whatever works."

Doctor Phlox was still in stasis, but now that they were on their way home, there was hope that something could be done for him. Hoshi knew the captain was carrying a load of guilt about what he had done to Phlox, and she hoped for both their sakes that Phlox's condition could be corrected.

The sealed bulkhead doors had been left in place in case there were any relapses among the crew. But the inoculations had worked the way the Blaniats said they would, and not a single person experienced a recurrence. Today they would begin unsealing the doors as well as putting the turbolifts back in operation.

Everything was getting back to normal except for one major thing that Hoshi wouldn't change for the world. Malcolm had decided, and she had concurred, that they would continue to share her cabin. The madness had gone, but their love had remained.

"You're sure you can handle living in my quarters now that you have all your marbles back?" Hoshi teased Malcolm as she sipped her tea at their table in the mess hall.

Malcolm made a face at her. "It's not like I was missing a lot of them compared to some people," he retorted, but there was an affectionate glint in his eye that took the sting from his words. "We are going to have to have a talk, however, about how closet space is divided. You seem to have an inordinate amount of off-duty clothing."

She snickered. "You didn't complain last night when I put that silk outfit on before coming to bed."

"There wasn't enough material for it to be considered an entire outfit on its own," he shot back with a wicked grin.

"So what's the problem?" she asked. "Something that size can't take up much room in a closet."

The sound of a throat being cleared interrupted them. Trip stood by their table, holding a tray, clearly waiting for permission to join them.

"Have a seat, Trip," Malcolm said with a friendly smile.

"Thanks," the engineer said.

Hoshi wasn't as pleased as Malcolm to see Trip. Sure, she'd gotten over the incredible awkwardness she'd felt at first after she'd been "cured." It had been a strange, shameful experience to be around someone whom you had tried to kill -- even if you had been out of your mind at the time you tried to do it.

Luckily, Trip hadn't taken offense at what she'd done. He had confided that he felt the same about what he'd done to Malcolm, not to mention that he'd been hitting on her the whole time, which embarrassed him to no end. He said he expected that they'd all get back to the way their friendships used to be, but it was going to take some time.

But right now when she was enjoying some titillating repartee with Malcolm, she'd just as soon Trip wasn't here. He seemed to be barging in on them more and more often lately. Although Trip hadn't said anything, Hoshi privately thought it was because T'Pol had cut him loose.

She felt sorry for him, but still, his showing up and interrupting her and Malcolm at any given moment was annoying.

In fact, Trip coming to their table this morning reminded her of another time he had joined them for breakfast.

"So, Trip," Hoshi said as he began eating. "You never did tell me -- Did you put something in Malcolm's coffee that morning?"

The slightest hint of pink touched Trip's cheeks. "Ah, yeah. I did," he said sheepishly, reaching for his cup and looking at the liquid in it before taking a sip.

A small smile played around her lips as she continued to interrogate him. "What exactly did you put in it?"

"Hoshi!" Malcolm said, aware of Trip's discomfiture with the topic.

"I'm just curious. I didn't smell anything in the coffee," she said. "So what was it?"

Trip rolled his eyes and said, "I got it out of the quartermaster's stores. Some kind of stuff for pest control."

"Pest control," she repeated, fixing Trip with a thoughtful stare and tapping her fingers on the tabletop. "I really hate it when pests show up."

Malcolm suddenly pushed back from the table. "I've got to get started moving the armory equipment back down to F deck. Hoshi, could I talk to you a minute? In private?"

"Sure," she said, picking up her tray and following him.

They took their dishes to the galley and she followed him out into the corridor.

"What is it, Malcolm?" she asked. "I've got to get going, too. I'm supposed to catalog those diplomatic protocols from the Blaniats." She laughed. "Not that it really matters. Another year or two, they'll have yet another government and a new set of protocols."

"Hoshi," he said, then stopped. He looked up and down the corridor to make sure they were alone. "I really don't think it's a good idea to do that."

"Do what?" she asked.

"Tease Trip that way," he said. "It sounded like you were interested in using some of that poison on him."

Hoshi stared at him, her eyes going wide.

"Malcolm! Whatever gave you that idea?" she asked, shaking her head and chuckling. She patted his cheek. "You'd think by now you'd know me better."

Malcolm let out a relieved sigh as they began walking down the corridor. She'd had him going there for a bit. No one had had a relapse of the madness, and they were just about out of the area of its influence, but still...

She had just been teasing Trip after all. He wished she wouldn't joke about using poison to kill someone after what they'd all been through, though.

He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek as they came to an intersection of corridors. "See you later," he said.

She nodded, smiling as she watched him walk away.

"Poor Malcolm," she murmured. "What made you think I was teasing?"

THE END


End file.
